Cruel Attractions
by ZivaMalfoy
Summary: I'm tired of the bachelors Mother picks out for me. I'm just tired of this whole marriage thing. Period. The guys are dull, boring, & losers. We just don't click well. Mother says it has something to do with my "attitude". But then one boy comes along with some stupid smirk & stormy eyes- and he actually has the balls to sass me. But I'm stubborn; I REFUSE to fall for Draco Malfoy.
1. A Mother's Taste

**Hello my readers. I'm really excited to write this story, I love love LOVE Draco and Pansy. There's so much you can do, and considering how there's not much in-depth character description about them, you have a lot of creative flexibility. So I'm going to experiment and play with them(especially Draco, I could play with him allll day). So this is probably going to be about four chapters. Obviously I have a plot idea(sort of), but I want to make this really interactive with you guys. Ask me questions, give awesome one-liners I can use for Pansy, or just review what you think of the story so far. Sorry that this chapter doesn't have much action, I wrote this at one in the morning because I HAD to write it. So here it is!**

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**~A Mother's Taste~**

"Oh Pansy, this robe looks absolutely ravishing! Very appropriate, isn't that right, Lindon?" Mother asks her husband, who's just staring off into space.

"Hmm? Oh yes dear, quite right. Not as divine as you, however," my dad says. What a suck up. Too bad I'm not.

"Mother, this is quite possibly the most hideous dress robe I have ever seen." Blunt, honest, to-the-point; that's my style. Too bad my "style" lands me in quite a bit of trouble.

"Pansy Priscilla Parkinson! How _dare _you-"

"Quiet down, quiet down! Don't use that wretched middle name in public!" I hiss, checking to see if anyone heard.

"Then don't use that wretched mouth to criticize _me_ in public!" I cross my arms over my chest defiantly. "Lindon! A little help?"

"What? Oh yes, that robe is quite exquisite, Pansy, better than the last." Mother and I roll our eyes simultaneously.

"It's the same robe, Father."

"And this isn't about the robe, it's about your daughter criticizing my taste in fashion in the middle of a store!"

"Well... would you prefer to move to the back of the store, then?" I hide a smirk. Mother may not detect that slight sarcastic note in his voice, but I certainly did. He rarely uses it anymore.

"What? No! Lindon, be serious!"

"Of course, Lucinda. Pansy looks... well, the style doesn't particularly... how to say-look good... On her body! I mean to say, her body simply isn't up to par with the requirements of the robe. You, however, would look absolutely beautiful in it." And whatever smile I had quickly vanishes. Dad just threw me to the wolves to save his arse. I bare my teeth. That sorry excuse of a man- he's so strong and arrogant and steadfast with every other person on Earth, but when it comes to his wife, he bends to her every will. How pathetic. But it works; Mother's placated.

"You are most certainly correct, dear. Now I know why I brought you along. Quickly, Pansy, try on this robe." I take the proffered robe and without a word, go back into the fitting room.

"That obnoxious, implacable, manipulative little..." I grumble as I take off the first robe. Mother didn't even "bring" Dad along, he chose to come because he wanted to make sure I wore something decent for tomorrow's dinner with the Nott family. Two years of sucking up to different suitors and my parents still haven't landed me a husband. Dad blames it on the clothes, Mother rants it's got to do with something along the lines of "excessive ego" and "attitude". So here I am, stuck trying on these absolutely repulsive robes. The first one made me resemble a nun, or that's what I think those penguin-looking women who live in those churches are called. Maybe this one will be better and- nope. Definitely. Not. Better. Wow, if this isn't ugly, I don't know what is. Brown, itchy, cloth hangs on my body, strangely resembling one of my house elf's outfits. Basically, I was wearing a pillowcase made of hay.

"Well?" My mother asks impatiently from outside the door.

"Give me a minute, it's going to take a while to soak up this atrocity."

"If you don't start filtering your tongue, you'll find yourself mopping the floor with it! Now, come out so I can see this 'atrocity'." Extremely reluctant, I step outside. Father's eyes pop out of his head, then he's laughing hysterically. Mother cuts him a sharp look, and he tries to stifle his laughter. "I don't see what's wrong with it," she says defensively.

"Mother, have you not seen-"

"Oh I've seen the robe! And it looks perfectly fine, the only atrocious thing about it is that it's on your body." I clench my fist behind my back, not wanting to escalate the argument. I can take it, Parkinsons are known for their bite.

"Of course, dear. That's probably it." Dad tries to wink at me, but I avoid his eyes- they aren't worthy of my contact at the moment. Pathetic old man. I take the next robe the woman offers and stomp to my fitting room. How can that cow possibly tell me to wear these sagging robes when all of hers are form-fitting and revealing? And she can't even pretend that my body's the reason the robes I try on look ugly- if there's one thing we are both very aware of, it's that my figure can make anything look good (unless the robes are actually potato sacks in disguise). I am my mother's trophy child. Ever since I was a baby, she always dressed me up in extremely flamboyant outfits and showed me off at her notorious tea parties. Every wealthy, Pureblood mother in the wizarding community fawned over me like a new puppy. I was "oh so precious" and "the spitting image of her mother". At first, Mother tried the whole loving parent gig- I'm sure just to get the full "mommy" experience of caring for her darling baby- but when the excitement wore off after about four years, I became her little show-and-tell daughter. Four is also when I formed somewhat of an "attitude problem", as Mother likes to call it. My aunt from my dad's side was killed-well, murdered- and she was my favorite family member. Actually, it used to be Dad, but Aunt Adela was murdered by some of the Dark Lord's zealots for turning to the Light. My family's paid a lot of money to keep that little secret under the rug, but my mom still uses it to threaten my father. So, he pretty much became her bitch. No more of "Pansy comes first" or "Must save Pansy from crazy, destructo mother". Nope, none of that in thirteen years, so Auntie Adela took Father's spot. She practically raised me anyhow, which made my mother question if any of her ideals rubbed off on me. Maybe they did maybe they didn't.

"Pansy what on Earth is taking so long?" The pounding on the door brings me back to focus. Oh, right. I was in the middle of trying on sacks.

"Nearly done, Mother." I reach for the frilly, pink robe with a sigh before a shimmering blue thing catches my eye. In the corner of the room, buried beneath discarded clothing, is the most gorgeous robe I've ever seen. I pick it up gingerly, afraid of tearing off even one blue sequence. The robe was incredibly short, probably only covering a third of my thigh. Low-cut, too, with long, tight sleeves that have slits in the shoulders. Overall, it is one small, curve-hugging, sparkling, blue robe of hotness. Smirking, I toss the pink disaster aside and shimmer into my robe. _Oh hell yes, this was meant for me,_I think as I stare in the mirror. Wouldn't Mother appreciate this choice? I think we should find the answer. Opening the door quickly, I step out into a frustrated Mother.

"Mummy dearest, how do I look?" Her eyes drop to my half-a-robe, all color drains from her face, and she nearly faints.

"Oh my-my-my-" her stuttering cuts off as what's probably a heart attack begins to arise. Dad finally snaps to attention and a toothy grin breaks out.

"Now _THAT'S_ going to get my daughter married!"

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**Bare with me until the next chapter. :/**


	2. Pricks and Kicks

**Author's Note: Here's the next chapter! This story is getting a lot darker than I originally intended it to be, the rating will be moved up to "T". And don't worry my lovelies, Draco will be coming in soon enough, I have to build up a bit. I'm just as antsy as you are to see him! If you hadn't read it, I out up my AU for the first chapter. I hope you all enjoy this one! I'll be updating soon, I want to get this rolling. And please review! I only have like three, so if you read all you have to do is take 2.4 seconds to write a quick little something. I get more excited about writing this when I know people read this. So I might do a chapter from Draco's point of view soon, who knows. Tell me what you think! Okay, get to the story!**

**TheStoryTeller231: Thanks! Glad you're enjoying it. **

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**Disclaimer: I own nothing of the Harry Potter world. Unless Joanne wants to give it to me. Can you? Please and thanks. ;) **

"I wonder what that big potato is doing in front of my mirror. Oh wait, that's me! Ow!" I feel a sharp pinch in my side.

"Hold still and keep your mouth shut. I need to fix this before dinner." I cross my arms, despite what Mother told me.

"Ohh, is _that_ what you're doing? Okay good, we're clear now, because I assumed you were preparing me for the Ms. Brown Bag pageant." '_Pinch. _

"We must really work on that annoying trap of yours, along with that sass."

"I only learn from the best, Mother," I say in my sweetest tone. _Poke_. "Ow! Again!"

"How many times do I have to tell you to stop talking, Pansy? Let me loosen the material around your bust and..." I roll my eyes as I lift my arms up, allowing her access to my chest.

"Mother, if you insist on loosening this robe anymore than it already is, we might as well wrap a brown sheet around me and call it a day." Another prick. "Is that _really_ necessary?" She ignores me.

"We must make you look appropriate for the Notts. Modest and conservative, that's the only way to go." I snort.

"When has that _ever_ been your motto? If I recall correctly, it was always, 'Your chest is your best, that's where a woman's treasure is." She grabs her wand and casts a cut-and-seal charm to the seam of my robe.

"Four years in Hogwarts and you still haven't managed to find a husband. The mistake certainly is not in _my_ teaching, so it must be from your slut outfits. I can't have my own blood dressing like a common prostitute, therefore you lose your right to dress yourself." I can only gape into my reflection, completely nonplussed. My so-called mother continues to flit about my robe, loosening the dingy brown fabric in the most unflattering ways, all the while muttering about, "Completely incompetent, can't even land a husband or dress like a respectable Pureblood."

Finally, Lucinda steps away, observing her handiwork. With an approving nod she says, "I suppose this will due. That behind of yours is quite difficult to cover up, perhaps it's time to implement some food restrictions." I gasp.

"Um, Mother? There is absolutely no way I am going without food again. You forced me to do that in fourth year and since then, food and I have come to a mutual understanding that no one gets left behind."

"The fat in your hips and behind seem to disagree with that understanding. No matter how much I loosen this material, it always clings to your sides. We really need to get rid of that whore body, it attracts unnecessary attention." What the _hell _is with this woman today? It's just insult after insult. Well, that's not unusual, but she never insults my body. That's her pride and joy.

"But Mother, it's not solely about _looking_ like a whore, you have to act like one too. And I think I've had a pretty good teacher, don't you?" One minute, my mother's behind me doing some last minute touch-ups and the next, there's a cold, stabbing pain in the side of my stomach.

"What the-" I look down, and the tip of Mother's needle is protruding from right above my pelvic bone. "Oh Salazar, did you just- M-Mother!" She smiles sweetly and places her chin on my shoulder, tilting the needle upwards. I suck in a deep breath.

"Careful with that tongue, child. I own you and your pathetic life, so be a little more aware the next time you consider contradicting me." She pulls the needle out, and tiny drops of red lace through the eye. Wiping it on my arm, she continues nonchalantly. "The Notts will arrive in two hours. I expect you downstairs and on your best behavior. Understood?" I glare at her through the mirror. She smiles, pats my head, and gracefully walks out of the room. Pulling my robes up, I observe the red dot on my belly. _It's barely an inch,_ _don't be such a baby! _Still, it hurts like a bitch. Or am I thinking of the woman who just left? I let out a harsh laugh.

"Wow Lucinda, I underestimated you. Well done." I've never known anyone colder than that woman.

How I respect her.

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_ Knock, knock._

"What is it?" I grumble from my sprawl on my loveseat. The door creaks open slightly.

"Um, M-Miss Parkinson?" came a trembling voice.

"What?" I snap.

"Mrs. Parkinson wishes me to tell you that-that-"

"Come out with it, elf."

"The Nott family will arrive in half an hour."

I groan loudly and the house elf squeaks. Feeling a tad guilty, I look at the small elf's head peaking out of my doorway. Vaguely recognizing her I say, "Thank you, Swinkie, let her know I'll be down in time." Swinkie gasps, probably in surprise; I don't usually show any civility towards my house elves in front of my mother, she would throw me out of the house.

"Yes, yes Miss Parkinson." She bows and backs out of my room. All the way down the hall I can hear her saying, "Young Miss Parkinson is too kind, too too kind. Swinkie is undeserving of such a nice young Miss."

Throwing a pillow over my head, I sigh. Half and hour. _Ugh_. Just thirty minutes until I have to deal with another worthless bloke.

"What did you do to deserve this, Pansy?" I say into my pillow. Thinking it's probably time to get ready, I pull myself off the love seat and traipse to my make-up bar. Yes, make-up bar. I sit on my plush, red arm chair and instantly sink a foot. Glancing into my wall length mirror, I pull out the infinite number of make-up tools from the bar counter. Half a pound of mascara, eye shadow, eye liner, lipstick, a QuickSlik hair spell later, and I'm Britain's most eligible bachelorette. I look bloody gorgeous. It's a wonder how I'm not engaged yet. Well, not until the end of fourth year did I begin to 'come into my own'. All the way until fourth year at Hogwarts I was a little on the pudgy side and resembled a, as rumors dubbed it, pug. Then, within the course of a month, I grew six inches, lost ten pounds, grew my hair out, and the pug nose finally lost its pug. Well, it was still slightly upturned, but I like to think it gives me some extra flair.

I was also a bit of a popularity whore, being a Pureblood Slytherin and all. Daphne Greengrass, Millicent Bullstrode, and Blaise Zabini were my little loyal followers. They still are, but back then, I had to threaten and blackmail them into staying in my clique. Now, blackmail definitely is not needed. I shudder, remembering how pathetic I was. Always gossiping about the most inconsequential issues, chasing after boys, and sucking up to anybody who was a somebody. Now, _I_ am at the top of the pyramid. I don't know exactly how that happened, puberty just gave me a natural air of confidence, I suppose. And boobs. Definitely boobs. I check the clock on my bar. 5:45. Only fifteen more minutes. I deeply, truly, genuinely hate these dinners. Ever since Mother Nature paid me in full, Lucinda has gone crazy over marrying me off to a wealthy, top-of-the-class gentleman. Every week for the entire summer I've had dinners with the wealthiest bachelors and their Pureblood parents. Lucinda hounds them for the first five minutes about their blood lineage and occupation, then spends the rest of the night being the perfect, ingratiating, lovely housewife. Dad sometimes attempts to step in and have her relax with the dates, but his help has become more seldom. I've failed exactly ten dates; if I don't suck-up to a man and put a ring on this finger soon, Mother will disown. Sure I want to get married and join the top of the wizarding hierarchy and have a bunch of little termites running around calling me "Mom", but men are just _so _insufferable. Either too weak or too pompous, and they all seam to dislike my personality. I suppose I don't exactly give off the housewife vibes. Life was so much easier when I was ugly.

'Knock, knock.' I look at the door through my mirror.

"Yes?" Swinkie's head pops back into my room.

"Mrs. Parkinson wishes to say that the Nott family has arrived and that you must hurry your, um, rear-end and act, um, extremely nice unless you want to... not have a very nice time tonight." I can only imagine what Mother _really_ said.

"Thanks, I'm coming." Following Swinkie out of my room, I think about Theodore Nott. He's in my year at Hogwart's and has always been rather quiet, from what I can tell. I've never actually talked to the boy before, but he's decent looking and comes from a wealthy family. Well of course he does, or else Mother wouldn't have him over.

"Pansy, my dear!" Mother shouts happily from the bottom of the stairs. Spotting Nott and his parents, I smile just as warmly. Fake, happy mode has been turned on. "Come down and meet Clive and Nora Nott." I roll my shoulders back, place a hand on the railing, and descend the steps with the sixteen years of grace Mother instilled into me.

"Hello, my name is Pansy, it's a pleasure to meet you both," I say as I reach the poised couple.

"Hello, Pansy, a pleasure," says the tall man with stubble.

"I'm Nora, you look lovely."

"Thank you." Alright, increase the charm a bit. "And the pleasure is all mine, Mr. Nott."

"Oh please, call me Clive." Perfect.

"I believe you've already met Theodore, right Pansy?" asks Mother. I turn to Theodore and shake his hand kindly.

"Yes, we are in the same year at Hogwarts. Hello, Theodore."

"Hello, Pansy, wonderful to see you."

His voice has deepened dramatically over the summer. Well, now I won't have to listen to a high-pitched squeal everyday.

"Thank you, it's lovely to see you as well." I can see Mother smiling approvingly from the corner of my eye.

"Why don't we move to the dining room? Dinner is ready, I hope you enjoy roasted eel cuts with breaded applecorn seeds." My stomach growls softly and I walk a little quicker to the table. Eel is God's gift to the world.

"Oh, I don't eat eel, but the applecorn seeds will be just fine," says Theodore as he pushes my chair in. I stop smiling. He doesn't eat eel? WHAT? Is this boy mentally stable?

I shoot a look at Mother but she's smiling warmly at Theodore.

"I'm terribly sorry, I wasn't aware. Pansy didn't mention that."

"Because we've never talked before." I realize the statement came out a little ruder than I intended and Mother shot a dark look at me. "But it's wonderful we have this chance to get to know one another." I smile reluctantly at Theodore.

"I agree."

"So, you don't care for eel?" I ask politely.

"Well, I've never tried it, so I wouldn't know. To be honest, I'm just scared at the prospect of eating eel. It used to sting its prey, you know." He smiles sheepishly. Is that supposed to be cute? I smile in return.

"Well, crabs pinch their prey, but when you eat them, they're dead." I feel a sharp kick to my shin under the table and nearly jump out of my seat. I look across the table at a seemingly innocent Lucinda. She smiles widely, but I can see the warning behind it.

"I suppose it is a bit silly. I'm just not the adventurous type," Theodore admits. Bloody wonderful.

"No? So traveling to foreign countries isn't in your future?"

He seems to consider it for a second. "I don't like going to new places. I'm a creature of habit, you could say, so I'd think not, unless business sends me to different countries. I'll mostly be at home." Theodore smiles again, like I'm supposed to be happy that I'd be trapped in a house all the time with him. If I have a husband, he needs to travel, so either I can explore new places with him, or I have opportunities to cheat on him with cute pool boys.

"That works out so well!" Mother exclaims. Where is she going with this? "Pansy hates traveling."

"I do?" My shin gets kicked again.

"Yes, you were just telling me about how you want a husband who can stay home from time to time and take care of you, right?"

"So Theodore," I say quickly. "What business do you do?" He smiles at the return of attention. Is there something wrong with his mouth?

"Right now I have an internship at the Ministry of Magic." I perk up at that.

"Oh? And what do you do?"

"Every summer, for the past three years, I've worked at the Ministry under numerous mentors. It's really quite interesting how many different Departments there are."

"So," I begin. "What is your favorite Department?"

"Oh there are just too, too many! I've worked with dragons, in the Department of Mysteries, Care of Magical Creatures, Magical Games and Sports, and practically all over the Ministry." I lean forward on the table, propping up my elbows. I don't care if it isn't proper etiquette, this boy might actually be interesting.

"That's our Theo, we're so proud of him," speaks his mother for the first time, clasping her hands in glee.

"That's amazing! You worked with dragons?" I ask.

"Only for a day. One nearly took my head off! It was quite dangerous work, actually."

"I can only imagine," pipes up Mother. Everyone at the table was so entranced, I can practically see the seating chart for our wedding being arranged in Mother's head.

"I was putting a dragon back in his cage with a few other blokes. The dragon was extremely wild; thrashing every which way and breathing fire. So there I was, coaxing this flailing, thousand-spiked creature to return to it's abode, and after hours, when it finally does, you'd think that's the end, right? But you're very wrong. This is the point where I found my true calling." We all lean forward, waiting to hear what happened.

"As we close the gate, this fiery demon lets out a long, throaty bellow. It ricochets across the walls, because we're in a cave, mind you, and suddenly, I'm flying! Flying five feet into the air and landing flat on my back. And you won't believe what happened next. My head almost landed on a stray _knife_! Someone was foolish enough to leave a knife lying around! Such irresponsibility could get someone killed. This is why I want to become Head of the Department of Magical and Non-Magical Tool Safety Awareness. Having a near-death experience like mine really makes you want to make a change in society." I stare openly at Theodore, mouth hanging wide for the world to view my tonsils. I didn't even care. Theodore's father claps him on the back in pride and his mother wipes the corner of her eyes. Mother even seems a little shocked, but quickly recovers and kicks me in the shin. I straighten.

"Is that even a Department?"

Another kick. Theodore stutters for a second before saying, "Well no, not yet, but it will be! I'm going to create one and make sure such frivolousness of dangerous tools never occurs again!"

"That's really the most fascinating story I've ever heard," I say deadpan. I also move my legs to the side to avoid Mother's reprimand.

"Why thank you, I certainly try." Was this guy from Hufflepuff? The sarcasm completely went over his head. My interest deflates like a balloon and I sit back in my seat.

"Pansy would be most pleased to have you as a husband, Theodore," Mother lies through her teeth. I groan inwardly, very much done with this conversation.

"I also have a liking for the Floo Network Department." _Oh how incredibly interesting. Please tell us more._

"Is that so? Pansy is obsessed with the Floo Network!" Yup, sure do Mother, just like I'm in love with busses. I zone out of the conversation, nodding whenever Theodore goes on rants about impossibly lame topics.

"I took Herbology when I was a young lad, as well." Is that something to boast about, Mr. Nott? _Boring_. Boring, boring, _stupid, _boring. I feel a jab to my knee and jump.

"What?" Glancing around the table, I realize everyone is staring at me, like I'm supposed to respond to something.

"Oh Pansy, always the joker. Theodore just paid you a very nice compliment," Mother says cooly. I turn to Nott.

"I'm terribly sorry, what interesting fact did you have to tell me?" Mother turns red, but I'm done playing the charming little girl, this dinner should have ended somewhere around when they got here.

"Well I was merely saying, Pansy, that you are looking well this summer." He smiles warmly.

"Was I looking ill before, Nott?" A dumbstruck look crosses his face.

"What? No! I merely mean you look better!" I lean back into my chair casually, clasping my hands together on the table.

"Do you mean to imply that I was worse before the summer, as in ugly? And now I look good? Or that I was hideous and have only improved to ugly? Or perhaps I still do look terrible but you're only saying I look better so as to conform with proper social etiquette, and to perhaps get laid."

The Notts gape at me and Theodore looks about ready to wet his pants. Lucinda laughs awkwardly before saying, "Oh that's our Pansy, forever joking. She'll always put a smile on your face, Theodore. But she's also capable of discussing important issues, isn't that right, Pansy?" Mother turns to me, her voice becoming icy and danger glinting in her eyes.

"Of course, Mother. For example, should women have to succumb to the customs of society and follow their husband's every whim? Should we have to breed little heathens like swine? Should we not be able to play professional Quidditch, if one brave female chooses to do so? Should we not be able to venture off freely into the wizarding world and do as we please, without regard to status or marriage or fashion? And should a woman have to be forced to sit through an entire dinner listening to possibly the most boring human being on the planet? These are very important topics, don't you agree, Nott?" By this time, I was picking listlessly at my nails, so I didn't see Mother bang her fists against the table and spring up. I did, however, see the outrage on dear Mr. and Mrs. Nott's face as they too stood up.

"I don't know want game you seem to be playing, Lucinda Parkinson, but we will _not_ tolerate such rude behavior from some wild, uncontrollable, insolent ninny!" Clive Nott booms and hauls Theodore, who still has his mouth hanging open, out of his chair and to the door.

"Wait, no, please, she didn't-" Mother begins.

"You forgot spoiled brat!" I call, laughing as they storm out of my house. Well, I laugh until Mother turns around. The look on her face shuts me up and has me peeing. The house elves, who began clearing the table, quickly(wisely) scurry away. I wish I was them.

"How dare you," she whispers icily, stalking towards me like a cat ready to attack, behead, devour, throw-up, and re-eat a mouse. "How DARE YOU! What in _SALAZAR'S_ name was that little stunt? Was it supposed to be cute? Was that supposed to be _funny_? You little whore! How dare you embarrass me like that!" I roll my eyes. Is it a bad sign when I'm no longer effected by my mother calling me a whore?

"Lucinda, please, don't be so dramatic. He was extremely-" she slaps me across the face.

"I am 'Mother' to you. However unfortunate that is. You will never address me otherwise; we represent a flawless family and you will act as such."

"How is that 'flawless family' working out for you?" Another slap. Too bad she's puny and bony with no muscle to pack behind the hits. They were actually quite pathetic, to be honest.

"I don't care if he's 'dull, tiresome, or the most boring human being on the planet'," she mimicks me. I do _not_ sound like that! "You will be charming, poised, and flawless at all times." There was a heated silence as we glare openly at each other. "Your father will be hearing about this when he returns from his business trip in Israel tonight." I shrug. That doesn't really frighten me. "Do you see? This attitude is why you don't have a husband! It's why 'no one' can stand to be near you for more than five minutes." I laugh.

"Much like yourself?" Her palm quivers, like she is itching to slap me again. She's probably realized that they don't hurt. "Go up to your room. Now. I don't want to hear a single noise from you for the rest of the night. I'll schedule another dinner for tomorrow. I strongly suggest you 'don't' mess this one up."

"What?! Dinners two nights in a row? That's excruciating!"

"If you don't at least 'act' like the perfect woman I raised you to be, then you'll have a new definition of excruciating." Lucinda smiles sweetly, and I smile back, waltzing out of the dining room. Then I hear her shout something.

"Ah!" A searing pain crosses my back and I double over.

Mother comes into my hazy view and leans into my ear.

"Just a little reminder to be good." Lucinda laughs as she stands up and begins walking up the stairs. "Oh, and don't tell you father about this. Good night, darling." I feel the cloth around my back dampen. Cautiously touching the wound, I suck in a breath. Blood coats my fingers.

"Holy Salazar!" My mother casted a freaking _cutting_ curse on me! The _bitch_! "Alright, Mother dearest, I'll show you what best behavior looks like."

**Did you enjoy? What do you think of Pansy? Lucinda? Let me know dolls! Also, this is a sneak peak to the next chapter!**

**"I'm sorry, were you dropped on your head when you were a baby? Or were you just born stupid?" **


	3. Housewives don't Sass

**Hello my lovely readers. Hope you're enjoying ICD so far(I'm abbreviating it to that, it's just too long)! I'm having fun and the next chapter will be the best, I've been building up to it. Sadly, that will be the last chapter of ICD. So make sure to review! Thank yous.**

**Guest: Nott does have an old soul, he's a boring old man inside a teenager's body. **

**GingerHannah: Thanks! It would ****_suck _****to be Lucinda's daughter. **

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**Disclaimer: I own nada of the Harry Potter world. **

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"You will not speak unless asked a direct question. Your answer will be yes or no, and if you have to explain, it will only be a short response. No snark, sarcasm, or sass. Am I clear?"

"No sarcasm? Why Mother, that's like not breathing!" I say in mock outrage, rolling my eyes. Lucinda stops her pacing in the living room and gets in my face.

"Get used to it, because if you mess up with the Zabinis tonight, you'll wish you weren't breathing." I hold her stare lightly, feigning boredom. But judging from her little "reminder" last night, she's capable of making me wish I was never born.

"All right, all right. No sarcasm, check. Anything else?"

"One more thing; here." She pulls something blue out of a shopping bag she's holding and lazily tosses it to me. After catching the shiny material, I gasp, realizing exactly what it is. The sex-in-cloth robe that almost made her faint!

"What is this for?" I ask cautiously. Is it mine? Why did she get it? What's the catch?

"It's for tonight." Um... _what_?

"Oh good, because I felt a little too slutty in my potato sack yesterday, but this will make me feel much more modest." Mother roles her eyes.

"That hideous robe clearly did not help your case yesterday. Since-"

"My _case_?" She ignores me.

"Since it's impossible to get past your personality, this outfit should distract any man long enough to drool, buy flowers, and put a ring on that God forsaken finger of yours." I smirk.

"Why Mother, I do believe that was a compliment." She folds her hands primly.

"A woman must always be aware of her body's advantages, without it, she's defenseless. Play men for what they are; portable banks easily distracted by a confident female and a good pair of legs."

"Damn. That was enlightening." I look at my mother with respect. She knows exactly how to get to the top. Manipulation is the key to a woman's success.

Except, a small part of me thinks that's just the easy way out.

"Pansy! Have I taught you nothing? Crude language is unbecoming of a woman. You will mind your words tonight, or rather, your lack of words." She gives me a pointed look.

"That's right," I snap my fingers, like I just remembered her warning. "I need to be a mute." Mother opens her mouth, about to scold me, then tilts her head to the side.

"Actually, that's exactly correct. Maybe we should try that all the time." I laugh.

"Good joke."

"I don't joke. Life would be much easier without your incessant talking."

"As if-" she waves me off.

"Now out of my parlor, I do believe you just reached your quota."

"_Quota_? On what?"

"Your words. You just detracted three from tomorrow." I gape at her.

"You've got to be kidding me."

"I. Don't. Kid," she says in a cold voice.

"What happens when I reach my quota and keep talking?" I ask, crossing my arms. This is absurd. I'll talk whenever I feel like it.

Suddenly her wand is out and, before I can even move, she waves it at me. A thin, white flash slices my arm. I gasp and bend over.

"Then you will surely regret it." She could be discussing the weather for all the interest she shows.

"Holy shit!" I yell, biting my lip from the pain. She freezes and stares at me.

"Get out. Immediately." Her voice runs chills along my arms.

I bite my tongue and stare right back at her. "Get. Out." Finally, I spin on my heel and slam the parlor door shut. The sound echoes through the dark halls and up the winding staircases.

Mother: 2 points.

Me: -100.

* * *

It's kind of interesting how the mind can be in any state of imbalance, but the body will still look good. Well, _my_ body looks good, I can't speak for all the ugly, fat people in the world.

The tension between me and my mother has become obese, knocked up, and had quadruplets within the last two days. We've always been at odds, but never like this. It's as if we're challenging each other. I've finally become a woman, and we might as well just have a cat fight to settle the issue on position of dominance. But of course we won't, because we are highly respectable, proper woman and do not dirty our hands with such ungraceful actions. We women fight with a battle of cruel words, power plays, and back-handed compliments, topped off with an elegant smile.

In all honesty, I don't care enough about female dominance to challenge Lucinda- but if she wants to bring out some slyly said insults, I'll throw a dictionary at her face titled "Vocabulary for Viscous Bitches".

Smiling at my lovely alliteration, I dab some more lipgloss on and look back at my reflection. Well, I look more than good. The sleek, blue dress robe(a.k.a piece of scrap barely covering my body) clings to every curve and dip my blessed mother gave me. The dress shows off, well, _everything_, but mainly my legs. It reaches mid-thigh and the sleeve twirls around my arm. The shimmering fabric hugs my breasts. _Suggestively_.

Blaise Zabini will be in love with me by the end of appetizers.

* * *

_ Don't talk. Don't talk._ _Don't say anything a sophisticated woman wouldn't say,_ I chant as I wait in my room for Mother's signal. If memory serves, Zabini's an ass. Actually, I remember _perfectly_ that Zabini's an ass.

"Elf, get out of the room! Make sure dinner is impeccable or I'll hang you by your ears!" Mother yells from downstairs. The Zabinis must be close. Lucinda always gets antsy before dinners, and she's especially unnerved now because Dad has to stay late at work again.

Granger couldn't count how many times Blaise and I have had... _disagreements_ at Hogwarts on the matter of women's intelligence compared to men's. He didn't bother hiding his opinion that women "live to care for the house and to serve as eye candy for men ". I'm very opinionated, it's just that it is rather improper to get angry and lose one's equanimity in public. But I always make an exception for Zabini.

"Oh, Radin and Cincetti, how are you both? Looking quite lovely, I might add," Mother's voice rings. I roll my eyes. That woman plays the perfect hostess so well. My cue will come up soon.

It doesn't matter if I disagree with what Zabini has to say, and it's not as if we talk often; we only talk when we argue(okay, so maybe often, but only because we've been in the same House for years). I don't even know him that well(besides knowing that he's an ass). He may very well become my husband, so I might as well be the mature one and bury the bad blood. Well, there's that and the fact I don't feel like dealing with Mother's wrath.

"Why thank you, I decorated the house myself. Now, Pansy will be down any moment then we'll-" and there's my cue. I open my door quietly and approach the stairs, ready for my grand entrance. All eyes automatically turn to me.

"Ah, there she is. Oh darling, do join us!" Once again, I turn the charm on and smile brightly to the new guests.

"It would be an honor, Mother. Wonderful to see you again, Mr. Zabini," I say sweetly to Blaise. He doesn't respond as I descend the stairs; he's too busy doing a double take at my transformation over the summer and the dress. He's drooling already. I smirk inwardly.

"Please, Pansy, call me Blaise." I didn't tell him he could call _me_ by my first name, but he wouldn't care if I gave him permission or not anyways. Women don't have value and all that. Zabini gives me an appraising look. "You'll do," he kisses my hand. My smile becomes a little too forced and my hand pulls away a little too forcefully.

"Glad you approve." I turn to his parents. "We have never met before. I'm Pansy Parkinson, thank you for coming tonight."

We get through all the proper introduction/greeting etiquette before finally proceeding to the dining room. My tongue is bleeding from the force of resisting calling Zabini "asshole" in ten different languages.

"We've had so many good times at Hogwarts, haven't we, Pansy?" He's being condescending, but I won't give in, my only response is a nod and a smile. "A little tit-for-tat here and there, but nothing I wasn't quickly able to make you see the correct point of view on." Smile, take a bite of squash, and chew slowly.

"Did you and Pansy converse often at Hogwarts?" Mother asks Zabini.

"Whenever I had the time to talk. I'm a busy man, mind you."

"Oh? Doing what, exactly?" Mother shoots me a glare for talking out of term. I pretend not to notice.

"Well if you insist, Pansy, I'm working on being Head Boy," he says proudly. I almost smirk.

"I thought you had to be good enough to be a Prefect, first." He sputters and takes a quick drink to avoid answering. How boring. But the look on Lucinda's face throws daggers at my body. Suddenly, soup never looked more interesting.

"Being Prefect is a guarantee. Isn't that obvious? I'm looking at the bigger picture."

"Of course, that's very... wise." I cringe inside.

"I must say, Pansy, that is the first time you've complimented me. Maybe you're finally realizing how intelligent I am. Some are just slower about the obvious than others. But better late than never, I always say! And you seem much more, how should I say, quiet. I think you're finally becoming aware of your place! Mrs. Parkinson, lovely job taming this one," Zabini says approvingly to my mother. I will rip off his special marbles and feed it to him.

"Thank you so much, Blaise. It was a difficult job, but nothing I couldn't handle."

"Not to worry, the best stallions are the hardest to break. I want the best of them. If I have Pansy, she'll be perfectly in-line by the end of the month!"

"Oh Blaise, you might just be exactly what Pansy needs!" Mother claps her hands in joy.

"As long as Pansy can cook well, clean, not spend all my money, and make lots of kids, we should get along just fine."

"So a housewife?" I snort, I don't care how unattractive that is. "Yeah, good luck with that."

"I assure you," says mother loudly to the Zabinis, completely blocking me out. "Pansy is nothing but well-mannered, respectful, and everything Blaise just mentioned."

"Yes, she _has _become much more attractive, and docile."

"I think a pretty little mop would suit you better."

"I think you will suit Pansy better than any other suitor we've encountered," Mother cuts me off. _Again_.

"We're so happy you think so. Blaise will be such a good husband, I just know it!" Cincetti has tears in her eyes. My Salazar, what's with these women? Crying is just _so_ pathetic and weak. And they call themselves Purebloods? Embarrassing.

"My son has always been the leader of the pack, you could call it. Always the head of his friends," Mr. Zabini boasts.

"And so kind, to take all the hopeless ones under his wing. Some people are just born to be followers and need direction," Mrs. Zabini says passionately.

"Quite right, Cincetti," Mother agrees.

"Salazar knows I'm one of the followers, I don't know what I would do if it weren't for Radin. I could be wasting away my life, forever unfulfilled, but now I have a remarkable son and _that_ is my purpose in life." I choke and gag on my water. Having a complete coughing fit in front of everyone.

"Are you all right there, Pansy?" Zabini asks, almost concerned.

"Yes, Pansy," Mother glares at me. "Are you all right?" I hit my chest a few more times before answering.

"Sorry about that. I was just so enthralled in Mrs. Zabini's speech that I forgot how to drink properly."

"No worries, dear, I'm glad you could appreciate it. You'll be finding your place with Blaise as well. Only with a man's guidance can a woman find her meaning in life," Cincetti says brightly.

"That explains men perfectly! They have to have a brain for themselves _and_ for us stupid, incapable women."

"Do you mean Blaise will be interested in marrying Pansy?" Mother ask, overlapping my sarcasm. Okay, I give up.

"Pansy seems like an honorable, young woman. We'd love to have her in the family. Perhaps we could have a talk tomorrow?" Zabini's father asks.

"Oh excellent! I've been going to a great deal of trouble trying to arrange a dinner with this other suitor's family for tomorrow, but they've been quite obnoxious. I'm more than happy to cancel it right away!" I cock my head to the side. What family? Mother never has try hard, families come to _her_ to arrange dates with me. Then I remember the more pressing, gag-worthy issue. _I'm getting married to Zabini?! Oh Salazar oh Salazar! Pansy Zabini, Zabini Pansy, Pansy Zabini!_

"That sounds great!" Cincetti beams as we all walk to the entrance door. My body moves awkwardly, jerking from side to side. _I'm going to be a married woman._ There's a tug at my elbow and I'm being pulled back.

"Well hello sexy fiancé," Zabini growls before he crushes against me and kisses me deeply. No sooner had his hand connected with my arse had my hand connected with his face. Not in a loving way, either. Absolutely disgusting.

"No. Fucking. Way." I wipe my mouth and spit in his face. The expression he wore would have made me laugh if I hadn't been busy scraping the tastebuds off my tongue. "Ugh, you _stupid_ little boy. What is _wrong_ with you?"

"Are you kidding me?" Zabini looks aghast.

"I don't kid."

"You bloody _spit_ on my face you filthy woman!"

"Not as filthy as touching you, believe me." I check to see if Mother saw, but the adults are still making wedding plans. Idiots.

"Do you honestly believe you'll still have the honor of marrying me after that?"

"Do you honestly expect to ever get laid after kissing like that?" I retort. Zabini gasps, completely not expecting my crude remark.

"_Every_ girl wants to get laid by me! I'm charming and intelligent and-" I laugh.

"I'm sorry, were you dropped on your head as a baby? Or were you just born stupid? Women want to sleep with your money, not your obnoxious, whiny face."

"Pansy, how are you doing?" Mother calls from the foyer.

"Very well, we're just getting to know each other better!" She smiles and turns back to the oblivious guests.

"You lie like breathing," Zabini hisses.

"I _am_ a Slytherin, I've got to keep things interesting."

"You're going to grow up alone and poorer than dirt!"

"Are you quite done yet?" I ask while picking my nails, bored. "It's obvious how annoying, dim, and dull you are. There will be a wedding over my dead body."

"Well-well- you know what? I think-"

"To be quite honest, I couldn't care less what you think. You can't even come up with a good insult. Boys are _so _boring, only good for a decent snog every now and then."

"You _women_ are only good for that!"

"Most women are, but I'm not most women. I'm good for much more and you don't deserve me. So, why are you still here?"

"You know what, Pansy? You're a crazy, worthless, delusional slag who likes to tease because you want me so bad and no one else will ever lay you. But fine, if you're so desperate you have to make up insults about me to create this whole appealing 'bad-girl' image, I'll be merciful enough to help a stupid, undesirable slug like you."

* * *

I swear I had no idea what was happening or why my hand acted without permission, but suddenly my wand was in his face, I yelled something, then he was puking slugs.

After that, the Zabinis left in a whirlwind of threats and obscenities. I was left with my enraged mother. No-no, I actually meant one of those sadistic murderers who attack in dark alleys and kill you slowly and methodically.

"You. Have. Embarrassed me. For. The _last_. Time." There is nothing but cold vengeance and hate on Lucinda's face as she slowly pulls out her wand. I can feel the static charging the air. The hairs on the back of my neck stand up as I back into a corner. She patiently walks around the table, inching steps towards me. I prepare myself for pain like I've never felt before. Oh shit. I'm not prepared. She smiles. I shut my eyes.

"Cruc-" _BANG! _There's a loud thud against the dining room window. We both turn, all the tension immediately dissipating. "Dwindle?" she asks in confusion as our owl continuously bumps into the window. He hasn't been around for a while, but I am more than thankful that he chose this moment to return. Mother rolls her eyes and pockets her wand. "Oh do shut up you bloody bird." She opens the front door and Dwindle swoops in.

"Is that a letter?" I ask, looking at the white envelope in his claws. Mother shoots me a terrifying look.

"Don't you dare talk. I'll deal with you in a moment." She looks back at the address on the letter and gasps. Then literally rips it open, tossing the envelope to the floor. Suddenly, she's smiling and jumping. I'm whiplashed from the emotional roller coaster. Scared to talk and remind Lucinda she's mad, I cough slightly. She spins to me, smiling. "It's wonderful! Absolutely marvelous! Oh, I never thought they would agree!" _What?_

"Are you talking about the Zabinis? Because that's beyond impossible."

"No, no silly!" She waves me off. "The Zabinis don't matter at all anymore." I arch an eyebrow. She was about to unleash all hell a minute ago because I ruined the dinner, but now they're as unimportant as dirt?

"Alright... Who was the letter from?"

"A family I've been trying _forever_ to get to meet you!" This is actually surprising. Who's got the infamous Lucinda begging for their attention?

"And this family is...?" She waves me off again.

"Don't mind your pretty little head over it. Go upstairs immediately and get a long beauty sleep. Soak you hair in liquified vanilla extract in the morning to give it that extra boost and shine. Scrub with my lavender vanilla wash. Do your nails. Wax. Pick out your best robes. No! We'll have to go shopping. Perhaps Paris? Oh you need to be at your absolute best! Don't do anything, I'll take you to Darcy tomorrow and she'll get you prepped. My, my so much to do, so much to do. You elf, over there! Inform the others you will be working throughout the night to make this house spotless! Not a speck of dust! And prepare a blueberry cake! And-" I've given up hope on getting any answers from Mother. I'll just be thankful I avoided punishment and go to bed.

As I reach my room, Dwindle flutters in and flies to his cage. He clumsily knocks over the food bowl before sinking into his plush matting and I swear he sighed. I roll my eyes.

"Stupid bird."

But I don't go to bed without reluctantly petting his beak. _Who is this family Mother's obsessed with?_

* * *

**Indeed, that is the question! Who is coming to dinner tomorrow? Review please! Tell me what you think! The next chapter will probably be the last. Thanks!**


	4. Lucky Number Thirteen

**The next chapter's up! I know, I know, pat on the back. Good job, Dria. So guess who finally makes an appearance! Well, not really an appearance, he takes up ****_all_**** of the fun parts of the chapter. I hope all you Dransians enjoy it! (Or maybe you're Dramione or Ramione or Hinny lovers; wherever your ship rocks. I don't care! I'm multi-ship friendly.)**

**REVIEW!**

**GingerHannah: Haha. Blaise could try, but he ain't gettin nowhere with her; Pansy's a lost cause. ;)**

**Breann: Thanks I try. ;) But to be honest, that was such a nice review that I decided to update a lot sooner. That made my day! Thanks girl!**

**Crazy's Wat I Aim 4: I totally forgot that line was in The Help! I don't remember where I got that from, but I LOVE The Help too!**

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**Disclaimer: I'd like to say I own the ****_Harry Potter_**** world but... I don't. Awkward. **

* * *

**Lucky Number Thirteen **

"Ow. Ow. _OW_! Are you blind, woman?! Or are you just trying to make _me_ blind?" I scream.

"I'm sorry, Miss Parkinson, I do not mean to cause you harm," replies Darcy sheepishly, looking at the ground. I roll my eyes.

"Yes, yes, that would be very unwise of you." She's still staring at the ground. "You can continue now. Just try not to make a shish kabob out of my eyes."

"Yes, Miss Parkinson." I flinch as one of Darcy's instruments of torture rip the hair out of my eyebrows. Mother assured me I would be groomed, pampered, and treated like a queen.

We need to have a little talk.

Since seven a.m, I have showered twice, sat in a bathtub full of rose petals for THREE hours, had my face zapped _twice_ to ensure there's not a single sign of blemishes, traveled every major fashion company in the world for the perfect set of robes, watched my mother hand over three full bags of galleons for one pair of earrings, walked a mile in six inch heels to break them in, took a review course on proper table etiquette, and have had all the hair on my body (along with parts of my skin) torn off by thin, white strips with questionable looking glue on them.

Paris, Italy, Brazil, Argentina, America- you name it, I was there today. And I hated it. Traveling is my favorite hobby, but not the kind of traveling where you Apparate from one fitting room straight into another for hours, never getting to venture outside.

And to top it off, Mother dearest decided now would be the perfect time to implement a diet. I call it, the Starvation Sensation. About every fifteen minutes, my stomach growls brilliantly, begging for food. But of course, I'm not allowed to eat. At all. Not until these guests leave.

With one last pluck of her Muggle tools, Darcy says, "There, all finish, ma'am." I detect a note of relief. How weak.

"Finally," I grumble, rubbing my eyes. They feel like they're about to pop out.

Darcy scrambles to put everything in her make-up box and hurries out, not even bothering with a goodbye. I roll my eyes then look in the mirror.

My eyebrows have much more shape and color, my eyelashes have twice the volume, and my hair falls in sleek waves across my shoulders and frame my bold eyes.

"You look dashing."

I bolt out of my seat from the unexpected voice.

"Mother!" I yell, holding my rapid beating chest. "You could have knocked!"

"Since it's my house, I see no reason to." She walks into the spa room and looks around. A frown forms on her face. "Where is Darcy?" I shrug.

"She left as soon as she was finished."

"Why?" I shrug again.

"No idea."

"I didn't even pay her." Mother pauses, raising an eyebrow. "What did you do to her?"

"I did absolutely nothing! It was _her_ who tried to pluck my eyes out with this metal tongs device and rip my skin off my body!"

"I told her not to be gentle. Anyhow, your pain paid off, you look ready for a ball."

Ignoring Mother's comment on ordering Darcy not to be gentle, I ask, "Who are our guests for tonight?" She immediately smiles. It's scary how many times she's done that throughout the day.

"Sometimes my charm surprises even me. I really do have pure talent." I roll my eyes. "The most prestigious, wealthy, utterly _obnoxious_ family in all of Pureblood society is coming to _my_ dinner! I must be special."

"Very special, Mother. Mind you, they are coming to see _me_, you're already married." Mother stands up abruptly, gasping.

"Oh no, I'm married!" Okay, she must really be going crazy.

"Sorry to remind you, but yes, you have a husband. For a few decades, at that." She shoots to the door.

"I completely forgot about him! I have to tell your father of the guests and he _must_ attend!"

"So you'll tell him but not me?" I ask indignantly.

"It will give him more incentive to come. I would be absolutely embarrassed if Clive didn't show. What's a woman without her husband? Nothing. Weak. A laugh." She heads to the door, then turns around with an odd look on her face.

"Pansy, why would_ you_ need to know? You are unimportant and unneeded, the only thing you're good for is marrying someone wealthier than my family and having children. You are _not_ important." I cross my arms.

"I'm unimportant? All right, so who would continue the Parkinson legacy if I were to jump out my window right now and kill myself?" Lucinda shrugs as she opens the door.

"I'm young enough to have more children. And hopefully, this time around the thing would be a boy. Now, enough talk, you've reached your quota. Put on your robes and be downstairs by seven." With that, she's gone.

It's not blue and tight, or brown and baggy; it's black and elegant. It's perfect.

The sleek, floor length robe has a long hood that's pulled together by a string tied at my neck. The material falls down my body like a silk sheet. It's sleeveless and although barely any skin is shown, the robe still flatters my body. With each step I take, my legs look elongated and beautiful. The robe is backless and accentuates my leans shoulders, neck, and back. But not too much is revealed since it circles back together above my waist.

French braids lead to a soft bun to the side of my head. A curl cascades down my face. I look like my mother when she was my age.

"You are coming and that's final!" Mother shouts somewhere in the house.

"I can't, dear, something important is happening at the Ministry. There have been reported sightings of-"

"Something important is happening _here_. You know how many years I've been trying to get them to come-"

"And I am very happy that your efforts have become fruitful, my luv, but this is of the upmost importance. Tell Pansy I'm sorry I couldn't come and-"

"_Pansy?_ This has _nothing_ to do with Pansy. This has to do with me looking like some fool of a wife whose husband doesn't even have time to have dinner with her. You are coming!" I hear Dad sigh. He must be in the fireplace.

"I'm sorry-"

"You're coming," Mother's voice turns to her trademark cold tone that sends shivers down my body. "Unless you want everyone to know about Adela." I freeze.

She just used _the _bargaining chip. The one Dad can't ever refuse. Word about Aunt Adela reaching the ears of a certain group that hates blood traitors would mean imminent death. For all of us. But Mother cares more about social status than her own life.

"Don't worry, dear. I'll be there." Dad's voice disappears and Lucinda's triumphant laughter crawls up my arms and grip my neck; terrifying, threatening, and nerve racking beyond words .

The little hands sprint around the clock, chasing each other until they reach seven.

For some reason, I'm slightly nervous. Maybe it's all the mystery and excitement around these guests that have me tense. I double check my hair before rushing to the door. No worries, I look perfect. This mystery man will be groveling at my feet, no doubt.

Mother's been going crazy all evening; poor house elves, they should get a treat for tonight. My dad arrived about ten minutes ago and Mother almost had a conniption.

The mansion, while still lacking life, has a bit more feeling in it. All curtains are draped back to show the garden and lawn, which Mother will no doubt have the guests tour. The beautiful chandeliers have large, lit candles in them and the fireplaces have warm fires. It_ almost _feels like a home.

"Clive! Get over here! Tuck your shirt in and fix your hair. It looks like a rat's-" _Knock, knock, knock._

The heavy sound reverberates through the house, like a stick or cane or something was beaten against the door.

A moment's pause before, "Lucius, Narcissa! I'm so happy you could join us!" Those names sound familiar.

"Yes, thank you for having us," the deep, eerie voice rings out, commanding the entire mansion to obey him. It's... dark, creepy, amazing. Lucius is the male version of my mother.

"Narcissa, you look splendid, as per usual!"

"A woman of superior status must have superior taste." That voice- it's cold and calculating, but has an elegant lilt to it. She's the exact opposite of any mother I've had the displeasure of meeting. No ingratiating comments or pleasantries. No wasting time playing one another. I'm entranced.

"Of course, of course. Please come in, Pansy will be down in a moment-" cue the star.

I walk out my room and down the hall, more eager than usual. Once at the top of the steps, two realizations make me stop for a split second.

The first realization is: power couple. They are... beautiful.

Lucius wears a crisp, black suit and has perfectly styled hair. Straight, orderly, and all business.

One side of Narcissa's hair is black and the other is white. But unlike all the teenagers that try dying their hair to look cool, Narcissa actually pulls it off. She's wearing a white dress robe that radiates beauty and power. She also happens to be scrutinizing me very closely, as if the question "Will this little girl be a waste of my time?" can be answered if she just looked carefully enough.

They compliment each other exactly.

Together, they're equals; enhancing the other's image of intimidation.

My second realization is that I know _exactly_ which family this is. Draco Malfoy, a Slytherin snob, stands next to the power couple. He doesn't shrink in their presence; he shines.

He also happens to be staring off to the side, like he's bored and too good to be here. While his parents appraise me, Malfoy is completely unconcerned by my presence. _Little git, why aren't you looking at me? You should be drooling right now!_'

Malfoy is in my year and House at Hogwarts. While we've never talked before, I can still honestly say Malfoy's a self-centered prick that would make a more _dreadful_ husband than any suitor I've met.

Many a night I've been woken up at Hogwarts to deal with either girls who were crying their eyes out or girls who gave _way_ too much information about their dates. Guess who I owe my gratitude for? That stupid Malfoy who can't keep his hands to himself, is constantly followed by two fat, ugly trolls, and who thinks he's the king of everything. Well, he is, in Pureblood society, but that only makes me ten times angrier. Malfoy's friends also include that arse Blaise Zabini. Enough said. At least Zabini had the courtesy of looking at me.

I don't care who his parents are, Malfoy will prove me right tonighg: he's just an obnoxious, stuck-up, bratty, arrogant boy who thinks he can get whatever he wants.

I walk down the stairs with my head held high and with more grace than I've ever had in my life.

_Don't trip, don't you _dare _trip.'_Stopping before the Malfoys, I smile broadly but tilt my head a bit to the side, letting them know I'm also scrutinizing.

"Pansy you look ravishing! Isn't that right, Clive?" Mother asks a little too brightly. Dad finally pipes up.

"Absolutely beautiful." I can hear the sincerity in his voice, but I don't look at him. Mrs. Malfoy and I are staring each other down. When the side of my mouth tugs into a tiny smirk, she seems to understand that it translates to, "This hag Lucinda is mental and I'm sorry we're related." She turns to her husband. Lucius nods slightly at her then smiles at me, offering his hand. A silent conversation just passed between them. They really are a power couple. I take the proffered hand.

"Lucius Malfoy, pleasure to meet you," his voice is cold, but there's a hint of approval in it.

"Pansy, the pleasure is mine, sir."

"Narcissa Malfoy." I take Mrs. Malfoy's hand. Staring into those hard eyes gives me chills and I want to hide in my bed. But taking the much less embarrassing route, I say in a strong voice, "Pansy Parkinson. An honor to meet you, Mrs. Malfoy."

Finishing my rounds, I turn to Malfoy. All respect I feel instantly disappears.

"Pansy Parkinson, wonderful of you to come, Mr. Malfoy," I say, holding my hand out. Finally, Malfoy turns to me. I'm immediately stricken by his features. Tall, pale skin, high cheek bones, bold eyes, a strong jaw, full lips, white-blonde hair swept to the side with just a few perfectly unruly waves. He's undeniably handsome. The boy smirks, as if knowing my thoughts, and I'm whipped back to the present. _Arrogant arse._ He stares at me for a second, then at my hand, before reluctantly shaking it. Am I that unbearable to touch? I thought I looked brilliant!

"Of course, Parkinson." And that's it. No first name basis, not even a title. I can't possibly get more offended.

"Well, it looks like we're blessed with perfect weather tonight. Lets not waste it! My husband and I will take you for a tour, Lucius and Narcissa. Pansy, be a dear and show Draco the grounds." Before I could let out a single word, she whisks them away and I'm left in the foyer with Draco Malfoy. I turn to him and roll my eyes.

"All right, let's get this over with." I head to the garden, not bothering to see if Malfoy's following.

"You want this to be over? Already? Most women want to drag it out as _long_ as they can." The way Malfoy says it makes the comment _extremely_ suggestive. I hurry my stride.

"They must be masochistic then." He chuckles and the sound sends shivers up my neck, but in a completely different way than I'm used to. We walk through the oak door that leads to outside. "Here we are," I announce as Malfoy walks further into the blooming garden and towards the maze hedge.

Listlessly, I commend mother for putting so much effort into the grounds. They are quite impressive.

"What are you doing?" Malfoy asks, turning around.

"I think people call this standing."

"Aren't you supposed to be giving me a tour?" I sweep my arm to the layout.

"I _am_ showing you. In the back is the maze. In the middle is the fountain. That section to the left is for the vegetables and fruits. Next to that are the spice plants. That cage over there has all the deadly plants. To the right are exotic flowers and whatnot. And about a mile out are the riding stables with thirteen horses." I cross my arms and lean against the door, showing I want to return inside.

"Thirteen?" he asks out of the blue.

"Thirteen...? Oh, that's right. Thirteen horses."

"Why thirteen?" He asks in that bored tone.

"Lucky number thirteen, I suppose."

"Thirteen is generally considered _un_lucky." Oh.

"If that's all, I'm going back inside. Follow, or you can go get lost in the maze."

Dinner is served after a few of Mother's awkward attempts to draw the Malfoys into conversation. Whereas most dinner guests always agree with whatever Mother says and exchange empty compliments, the Malfoys don't believe in short talk or lying to make people feel good. I smile behind a bite of duck.

"Draco, did you know that Pansy attends Hogwarts as well? Are you two in the same year?"

"It's possible," Malfoy responds. I glare at his nonchalant tone. Then he adds, "I do recall in one Potions class where Snape called her assignment 'filth on paper' and it would be a 'disgrace to even throw it in the rubbish bin'." Once again, I find myself choking on my water and coughing a lung into my napkin. Everyone stares at me, Draco with a barely visible smirk. But it's there, and it makes my blood boil.

"You okay, dear?" Mother asks with an icy smile.

"I'm good." After a moment, I reach to take another bite of duck, then decide against it and lean back into my chair. "Funny you mention that, Mr. Malfoy, because I recall an incident where you were turned into a ferret." Malfoy doesn't do anything as embarrassing as choking on water, but his look of disinterest turns into a glare, and that satisfies me immensely. I take an innocent bite of my meal.

"Oh Pansy, you're a riot! Draco, what career do you wish to pursue when you're of age?" Mother attempts to break the tension. He glares at me for another second before turning a charming smile to my mother

"I'll be Minister of Magic, of course." I stare agape.

Dad lets out a low whistle and comments, "That's going to be difficult."

"I wouldn't expect anything less. What's life without a bit of challenge?"

"What's life _but_ a challenge?" I mumble.

"Actually, I happen to disagree." My head shoots up to Malfoy. "If life were a challenge, then everyone would be winning right now, we'd all be in first place. But life is easy. The circumstances you're brought into may be difficult, but the easy way out is to succumb to the circumstances, or to kill themselves. That's the choice the majority of people take. So their lives aren't challenging if they aren't willing to play the game. Only few have the strength to rise above and conquer over all. These are the people that make it to the top and beat the challenge."

"As you stated, Mr. Malfoy," I contradict. "Suicide would be an end to suffering, because life _is_ the challenge that brings forth all the suffering. Even if you succumb to your circumstances, you would still be miserable. It's a lose-lose situation- difficulties all around. The only way out of the the challenge is to end life."

"All right Pansy, a bit too dark for the dinner table-" Mother's cut off by Malfoy.

"Weakness is not a way to win, it's a way to lose without having to deal with the consequences. If one is unwilling to work hard and persevere, he will always suffer. If one _does_ choose to perform these things, he will overcome his challenges and live life free. That is the only way to win. Take a poor man, for example. He could continue to beg for money and food, until he withers away to nothing- his last thought spent praying for a savior, when in fact, this man could have been his own savior all along. He could have tried, knocked on every door until his knuckles bled, until he found job, and he could have worked his way up the ladder. But he didn't, he's dead, all because weakness is easier."

"As if _you'd_ know anything about being poor," I retort.

"_Some_ of us have the capacity to imagine beyond what our mundane little brains are used to thinking." Malfoy leans back into his seat, folding his hands and staring at me expectantly. For the first time in my life, I'm speechless. What the-wait a minute- did he just imply that my brain was- was I just _insulted_'? By a _boy_? By _Malfoy_? Mother repeats her little uncomfortable laugh that just makes the situation infinitely more awkward.

"What do you wish to do when you're older, Pansy?" My attention snaps back to focus on Mrs. Malfoy. She looks at me expectantly, like her son did a moment ago. I clear my throat.

"I haven't considered the topic much." _Pshhh, you know you consider it all the time.'_She arcs an eyebrow.

"Really?"

"I mean to say, not in a realistic light."

"Entertain me." I hesitate.

"I suppose, working in the Ministry has always interested me."

"But of course, Pansy is perfectly happy with staying at the house," Mother cuts in quickly. Mrs. Malfoy ignores her.

"Which Department?"

"The Department of Mysteries." Lucius looks thoroughly surprised, as does Mrs. Malfoy. Dad looks interested -but he already knows I would want to work there- Mother looks horrified, and Malfoy... he's staring off with that same damn bored expression.

"Why there?" Lucius asks.

"There are so many fields to study, the most important of which I think are time, death, and love."

"I happen to disagree." I slowly turn to Malfoy, who's finally paying attention.

"Of course you do," I murmur, irritated. He smirks.

"Time is important to study because you can manipulate it and get your hands on one of those time-turners, studying death is important because you can discover how to escape it, but love? Love is unimportant and useless." The arrogant little blondie props his elbows on the table, leaning forward, raising an eyebrow. This time I retaliate.

"Love is the most important and useful of the three, if you really think about it, Mr. Malfoy. How else would you manipulate and control people?"

"Fear," he replies instantly.

"Many things cause fear: the possibility of losing all your money, having a bad hair day, getting bad breath after consuming garlic- but the most important feeling that instills fear is love. The possibility of losing a loved one, being hurt by someone you love, or seeing them falling for someone else- all of that is directly connected to love. It's easy to predict the actions of people in love."

"I thought love makes people unpredictable."

"Quite the contrary, actually. Imagine the most ridiculous, dim, unreasonable decision, and someone in love will make it."

"You seem well educated in the topic, have you had the misfortune of being in love?" Malfoy says with a smirk. I snort.

"Love? I'm only educated in the concept, never have I or will ever be naive enough to fall in love." Narcissa speaks up.

"Naive? Why do you choose that word?"

"Because you'd have to be to think someone genuinely, wholeheartedly cares about you. All it takes are some threats, bribes, another attractive person, or practically anything of value to break the 'invincible' connection of love. Love is fake, a lie, a scam."

I make eye contact with every person at the table to drive my point home, but my eyes settle on my dad's for a moment longer than necessary. I suddenly feel uncomfortable. He looks down quickly and I turn my attention back to Narcissa.

"Well Pansy, that was-" Narcissa begins.

"Pansy didn't mean all that! Along with her humor, she has a great deal of curiosity. But even more than that, she wants to be married and make a beautiful house and have children. Isn't that right, Pansy?" Lucinda turns to me with a venomous tone.

"Of course, Mother. There's nothing else I'd rather do." Lucinda smiles tightly and faces the Malfoys again.

"She's such a wonderful young woman. I must express again how glad I am that you accepted my invitation. We finally-" Mrs. Malfoy cuts a look at Lucinda that clearly says "shut up". Mother's instantly quiet. I'm reveling in the fact that there's a woman in the house who is superior to Lucinda.

"The only reason we finally agreed to accepting your insistent invitations is because we've heard so much about Pansy." I freeze at Mrs. Malfoy's words. Mother laughs nervously.

"Only the best, I am sure."

"Quite the opposite, on the contrary," says Lucius, seeming done with talking to Lucinda as well.

"From every connection we have that is looking to marry off their son, we have heard nothing but the absolute worst," Mrs. Malfoy finishes.

"Well that can't be right-"

"The stories they told! On and on they went about how Lucinda Parkinson has the most wretched daughter who has not a care of authority and respect."

"Please, if you'll only let me explain-"

Mother tries in vain.

"So of course, we just had to come see for ourselves," Mother immediately stops talking and we both stare agape at Lucius.

"We're pleased with what we see." Malfoy jerks upright at his mother's words. While my eyes are bugging out of my head, he's staring at her with a dark look. "Pansy has been quite entertaining with her bold thoughts and interesting personality. She is attractive, elegant, poised, and everything we traditionally seek in possible suitors, but what my son really needs is a capable woman with a strong head on her shoulders." Draco is absolutely glaring now. I'm stuck on "attractive" and "poised". Mrs. Malfoy, the queen of elegance, said that? About _me_? I smirk inwardly.

Pansy- 500 points

Lucinda- 2.

"Yes," Lucius agrees. "With my son's aspirations, he won't be home often and will be quite busy. Draco will need an intelligent woman who can manage without him, be the temporary head of the family, make decisions, and think on her own. Pansy seems like a suitable fit."

"Oh I assure you, Lucius, Pansy is the perfect woman for the job! I raised her myself, mind you, and-"

"Mr. and Mrs.' Malfoy to you, Lucinda. My husband and I are superior to you in every aspect and you would do well to remember your place. Second, our interest in Pansy, we assure you, has absolutely nothing to do with your upbringing." I almost want to hug Mrs. Malfoy.

"Now, if you will escort us to the door, we shall be on our way." The Malfoys stand up in unison at Lucius's final words. I've never seen Malfoy look so energetic. My side of the table stands as well and follows the receding guests. My gait slows, confused. I have no idea what's going on. First, they're insulting my mother. Second, they compliment me profusely. Third, they're walking out the room, ending dinner before dessert was even served.

"Does this mean you want Pansy to marry Draco?" Mother asks as her and Dad hurry after them. Lucius and Mrs. Malfoy turn around.

"Don't be foolish, we will not arrange our son's future within the course of one meal. Actually, he won't be marrying until he finishes school. A follow-up date will be necessary between our children, and perhaps numerous other meetings throughout the year." Mother's taken aback for a moment, then resume her hopeful expression.

"The kids can meet next week. Does that suit your fancy, Luc- I mean Mr. Malfoy?"

"That should work." With no further words, the couple Disapparate.

Mother stands in the foyer, shocked. Then, she turns to Dad and let's all hell loose. "It's your fault they don't like me! How could you do this! You were so quiet that it offended them! Could have possibly embarrassed me more?"

Someone touches my shoulder. I spin around.

"Malfoy? What are you still doing here?" Malfoy crosses his arms and scrutinizes me as my parents' argument escalates.

"Where's your room?" I take a step back.

"Are you kidding me? It's been two hours and you already want to get in my bed? Good luck with that,

pig." Malfoy rolls his eyes.

"Don't flatter yourself, Parkinson, that's the last thing on my mind. Where is it?" The last thing on his mind? Another first I've never been told by a boy.

"I'm not going to tell-"

"Where is your room?" It's difficult to hear him over my parents, and he's getting annoying, so I throw my hands up in defeat.

"Second floor right wing-" Malfoy grabs my arm, spins around, and before I can so much as punch him, we're in my room.

"How did you get in here?" I gasp.

"Some would call it Apparating," Malfoy throws over his shoulder as he walks around my room. I roll my eyes.

"Is that so? I wasn't aware. Well, how did you manage to Apparate in exactly the right spot? You've never been in here." Or maybe he has...

"Among my numerous other talents, I'm particularly efficient in Apparating." I cross my arms and sit on my purple bed.

"How are you so good, exactly? We're not even supposed to be learning it." Malfoy makes his way to a long windowsill teeming with my snow globe collection.

"How have you practiced without getting caught?" he asks, shaking a snow globe with the Eiffel Tower in it. I shrug.

"My dad works in the Ministry so-"

"Exactly. It's all about the connections." I cross my arms and stomp over to the window.

"What are you even doing here? Your parents left." Malfoy finally stops harassing my globes and turns to me, eyebrows furrowing.

"Yes, my parents. They seem to be rather partial to you." My eyes bug out for the nth time.

"_That _was partial?" Malfoy smirks and turns back to the globes, shaking each one. I try and look around him to note which contaminated globes I need to burn.

"Compared to what they do to other girls? Yes."

"What do they do?"

"Walk out at the beginning of dinners, insult the parents, make girls cry- the like."

"Your parents are very blunt people."

"And your mother is a blubbering idiot."

"_Excuse_ me?" Malfoy turns to me.

"Can't get a read on your father, yet, he said all of about three words."

"I can see the bluntness didn't skip a generation."

"I don't waste my time telling people how wonderful they are when they're not. Brutal honesty is my preferred method of speech." He walks to the other side of my room where my photographs are. He scrutinizes them. "They don't move."

"You're an insightful one, aren't you?"

"You're going to be the annoying one, aren't you?"

"_I'm_ going to be annoying? You're the one who barged into my room!"

"I Apparated." Malfoy shrugs, his focus returning to the pictures. "Who's this?" I know which picture he's referring, so I avoid the question.

"You still haven't told me why you're here."

"Because your parents were being rather loud downstairs. By the way, do they always fight like that."

"Whenever my dad's home." I cross my arms, trying to appear confident, but I'm really just protecting myself. He better not show pity.

"Hm. Well it's rather entertaining. You should try recording it. Bloody hell of a laugh that would be. Anyhow, I needed to see what my parents see in you." Malfoy takes a step closer and I'm suddenly breathless, completely immersed in those steely grey eyes. "But I don't see it." He takes a step back and the connection is wiped out with the distance. I correct my earlier statement, it _is_ possible to feel more offended. Malfoy is just stacking up the surprises.

"I wouldn't expect you to have the capacity of recognizing greatness if it were a bludger thrown at your face." I smirk right back at him and put my hands on my hips. He clucks his tongue and shakes his head at me as if he were reprimanding a child. Somehow _I _feel like the insulted one. Malfoy goes back to observing my pictures.

"I don't like you," he states with that bluntness I'm growing used to.

"I'll let you know when I care."

"But the thing is, you like me."

"And just when I thought you couldn't get _more_ full of yourself." Suddenly, Malfoy's in my face. Two. Inches. Away. My breath catches. I could just lean over and- smirking, he backs away.

"I don't like you and you don't like me, but you're still very attracted to me."

"Whatever helps you sleep at night," I say, rolling my eyes. _Arse.'_

"It's perfectly normal, you wouldn't be human if you weren't attracted to me." Malfoy looks at all my pictures again. Why is he so interested in my stuff? He should mind his own business.

"Why don't they move?"

"Because I don't make the move." I reply shortly.

"Why not?"

"Because I like them still."

"I see you're going to be rather difficult." Malfoy looks back at the picture he first asked about. "So you won't tell me who she is?" I cross my arms and don't look at the picture. She'll have dark brown hair and brown eyes and a soft smile.

"She's just a woman who posed for me." I shrug, trying to play her off as a stranger.

"Since you insist on being difficult, I'm left to my own devices." He stares at the picture intently. What is that suppose to mean? After a minute, Malfoy straightens up and looks at me with those stormy eyes and a smirk. Oh no. "You're crossing your arms, which means you're defensive about something. Clearly she's not just a stranger. You refuse to look at the picture even once, probably so you don't show any emotion or you don't want to _have_ any emotions. She must have been close to you."

"I'm not close to anyone, actually," I say casually, discreetly resting my arms at my sides.

"She looks exactly like you, but you already have a mother- unless you're adopted, then that would cause some issues with our family's arrangements- so she could be a sister. She looks about in her mid twenties so she'd be living on her own. Still, your mother would have bragged on and on about her, so she must be dead, which would explain your obstinacy on not speaking about her. Did I get that right?" How the _hell_' did he do that? He needs to leave. Now.

"She's my aunt, not my sister, you stuck-up arse." He smirks triumphantly.

"You say that like its a bad thing."

"All right, this has been loads of fun, but you should go now."

"Don't be upset just because I got it right." Malfoy's smiling madly. He has nice teeth. _Okay, he definitely has to go._ I walk around to Malfoy's back and push him towards the door.

"You didn't guess right!"

"Oh I knew she was an aunt, I just wanted to head you say it. So how did she die?" Almost to the door.

"_Bye_ Malfoy." He spins around quickly and completely unexpectedly. Malfoy stares at me with those deep eyes. Since my hands were on his back, they're now on his chest. And I can't seem to make them move.

"What number am I?" Malfoy suddenly asks, voice dropping to a whisper.

"Um, what?" He's really close. And I really need to move my hands.

"What number suitor am I?"

"Thirteen." He smirks. Then leans slowly towards my face, his soft lips brushing my ear.

"Lucky number thirteen." Then he leans back, his lips a whisper against my cheek. Still smirking, Malfoy Disapparates.

My skin tingles from everywhere he touched and there's a tung in my stomach.

That was... this entire night's been... interesting. For the first time, a boy was _different_. Someone actually listened to what I said and argued intelligently with me. Someone took my sass and handed it right back. This boy was still completely arrogant, but he was just... different. Not boring. Malfoy is the _only _boy who ever surprised me. _Maybe you've finally met your match, Parkinson.'_

But I don't like that.

I hate him.

_I _am superior. Always have been, always will.

I _refuse_ to give in to Draco Malfoy.

Grimly I think, _Lucky number thirteen. _

* * *

**So... yeah. Stories never turn out the way you want them too. Of course I planned on this only being four chapters, but nope! My brain died. This will be a full on story. Probably with a sequel and all that jazz. Look forward to more chapters! Follow! Thanks. **

**(Oh, and see that review button below? Press it. Say amazing things. I dare you. Okay bye.) **


	5. Parks and Pitches

**Here's your update! I hope you like, I'm not sure if I do. Haha, I've just finished editing Parks and Pitches and it's 1 am. I was pretty cranky while editing. I'll be busy over the next fee days, Disney is interviewing my sister and me about an animal rescue we have so I probably won't update for another two weeks. Oh, and the next chapter or two will be the big kick-off for the story, so I'll probably be having some writer's block that I won't want to deal with. But if I have some really awesome reviews I'll try and update faster!**

**Speaking of reviews...**

**Beatrueheart/Breann: 1. Ohhhh you got me gurl! Sorry about that, thank yas for reviewing! It was amazing! 2. Glad you liked the chapter! Hope this one becomes your favorite. ;) 3. You described Narcissa perfectly, except the Malfoys don't go ****_against_**** society, they ****_own_**** society. 4. All will be revealed... Actually that question made me think about the plot, I realized I have three more years to go through! So I don't know yet how Pansy and Draco will be in sixth year. 5. Haha yes, I am a girl. That would be awkward if I wasn't. 6. I like numbering things. **

**GingerHannah: Haha sorry for the scare. The plot bunnies just turned into dinosaurs in my head. ;)**

**Dransy: Thanks! Hope my update was quick enough!**

**Crazy's wat i aim 4: Yay! Glad you like Pansy, she's a pretty cool chic. Oh and thanks for reviewing Let's be Gryffindors!**

**Petalflame: Haha I know! That's exactly what went through my head as I wrote that scene. But I like it and haven't seen other fanfics with Draco as the Sherlocky type, but I think it fits him! Draco's a Slytherin so he's pretty smart and clever. **

**Chocochica4200: I love the dialogue between Draco and Pansy too! Haha, hope you like this one. **

**Princesadeplata: Yes! I don't know, the entire meeting just came out of nowhere. I first imagined them arrogant and cold and Malfoyish, but as I wrote it I felt like it gave both Pansy and the "power couple" more depth if she kind of revered and slightly obsessed over them. I'm so happy you liked that exchange because that was my favorite part! **

**Disclaimer: I would be off on a cruise in Jamaica right now if I was J Rowling and owned Harry Potter, but since I'm not, and I don't, I can't be on those lovely islands. **

** *Parks and Pitches***

"That Draco boy seems like a decent bloke, doesn't he Pansy?" Dad asks during breakfast. It's one of the few times he's been home lately. I shrug.

"Depends on your definition of decent." He laughs.

"Oh come on. Don't be so stubborn, just because he's as smart as you doesn't mean you should be-"

"Draco Malfoy is _not_ as smart as me."

"Alright, alright," Dad says, holding up his hands in a placating manner. "Just because he's _almost_ as smart as you doesn't mean you should be defensive. Instead of fighting with him, you should enjoy the fact that you've found an equal." I open my mouth to argue but he corrects himself quickly. "_Almost_ an equal. You won't find many people, let alone boys, your age that are even close to your level of intelligence and maturity. You're the best of them, Pans." I don't know what to say, thank you? That's nice? Why are boys stupid? So I don't say anything. Suddenly very uncomfortable, my hands start fidgeting together. It's rare I'm complemented on intelligence and not on looks. "Besides, he seems like a looker."

"Dad!" I say, horrified. He starts laughing.

"Sorry, didn't mean to get awkward there. But I saw you staring at him during dinner." This is absolutely mortifying.

"No you didn't. You saw nothing," I say too quickly.

"Okay. All I'm saying is that you should give Draco a shot. You might end up happy with him."

"I would _never_ be happy." Dad looks at me sadly.

"Kiddo, you never allow yourself to feel happiness or love or anything good. You only feel all the bad things."

"1. I would be very happy if we ended this conversation. 2. I've never felt love because love is for little kids. 3. What can I say? I'm a masochist." Funny how I told Malfoy girls are masochistic for being with him. I suppose everyone's a little a crazy around him.

"You always were an odd one," Dad says with an affectionate smile. Ugh, does he _actually_ believe I'll fall for that? But I'll play along.

"It must be in my genes." He laughs loudly and I crack a smile. But only so it looks like I'm enjoying being with him. Not because I actually am.

It's just an act.

Light footsteps descend from the stairs. Mother comes into view looking as pristine as usual. Dad's laughter instantly stops. He goes back to his eggs.

"And what are we laughing about down here?" Lucinda asks as she searches in the kitchen cabinets.

"About my genes, Mother," I say for Dad. He tends to ignore her.

"Since you are not permitted to wear jeans the clothing, I assume you are talking about the hereditary type, of which you have the absolute best of so I'm missing the humor."

"Never mind, Mother. It wasn't very funny anyhow." I take a bite of toast to end the conversation, but of course that just brings up a much worse topic.

"Is that bread, Pansy?" I flinch. Damn, I forgot about the diet. Dad peeks up at me from his paper.

"Yes, Mother. I thought my food restrictions ended once the Malfoy family left."

"Food restrictions? What food restrictions?" Dad asks angrily.

"Not 'restrictions', more like healthy eating habits. Don't worry, Clive. It's just so she looks acceptable for the Malfoys." Rubbish. I wasn't allowed to eat at all.

"Pansy looks perfect." Dad says, turning to her. I feel something in my chest.

"Well of course she does. She _is_ our daughter. We just had to make sure Pansy was at her peak for the guests." Dad was about to say something but Mother moves on. "Speaking of the Malfoys, you are going to their house this Friday for the day."

"What?" I yell.

"I expect you to be on your best behavior and not be anything other than the charming woman I raised you to be."

"And also be fun and stick up for yourself, like _I_ raised you to be," Dad adds.

"No. She has to be respectful and elegant," Mother counters.

"She can do that while also being interesting."

"High-status, respectable, Pureblood families do not look for _interesting_, they look for attractive women accepted by society."

"Pansy is beautiful, respectable, and much more than that." For a second, Lucinda looks a little... jealous? Dad never calls her that. Then again, Dad doesn't lie. Well , not that often. Mother turns to me.

"Remember everything I've taught you, especially with the Malfoys."

"Because they're rich?"

"No, we already know they're wealthier than us, which is why Draco is your best option for a husband."

"'Only if you want to marry him," Father corrects.

"If Draco wants to marry you, then you _will_' marry him. No arguments."

"She should get a choice, Lucinda."

"Her choice effects all of us, Clive."

"How? We already have enough money and respect."

"There is _never_ enough. If there's another rung on the ladder, you keep climbing. Climb, climb, climb, until you reach the top. The Malfoys are the top, and we're joining them."

"We can't be selfish and take away her life."

"I _gave_ her life. I can do whatever I want."

"What _you_ want?" I can't believe Dad is actually defending me.

"Yes. What _I_' want. Oh certainly, you are important. You need to sign the papers and pay for the wedding and make me look like the perfect wife-which I am- but ultimately, it's me who gets to decide."

"And what reason made you think that?"

"Many reasons make me _know_ that. Shall I go over all of them with you? There really is only one, actually, but I don't feel like rehashing old wounds," finishes Mother with a cold smile. They stare down each other for a moment. I know immediately when Dad caves. He hunches his shoulders, stands up, and grabs his suitcase.

"I'm going to work." Without looking at either of us, he walks away.

"Probably going to get drunk at the Leaky Cauldron," Mother says, pulling out an apple from the refrigerator. My skin gets hot.

"He is _not_ off to get drunk."

"Oh sure, that slime has very important things to do at the Ministry. How could I forget?" She slices her apple. I wish I could slice her up until nothing's left but a bloody corpse. I stand up and slam my palms on the table.

"My father is _not_ getting drunk! And he _does_ have important work to do."

Lucinda glances at me, unconcerned.

"Don't raise your voice or throw a tantrum, it's extremely unladylike." She waves her wand at me and I'm thrown into my seat. _Damn, how is she so good at doing silent spells?_ "Now, back to the Malfoys. You will spend the day with Draco come this Friday. You will be more respectable and _silent_ than you've ever been in your life. And I will know if you're not, I'll be calling Narcissa afterwards." I smirk. She wouldn't, Lucinda would wet her robes if she had to call Mrs. Malfoy.

"I thought you weren't permitted to call her Narcissa?"

"You think I care?" Um, yes. You absolutely do.

"She would eat you alive if you did." Lucinda stops slicing her apple and looks at me.

"Do you- do you actually believe that I'm _afraid_ of Narcissa?" She starts laughing loudly and my skin prickles. "Oh dear, and I thought you knew me well enough! How insulting." I'm so confused. She's not scared of Mrs. Malfoy?

"Please share your wisdom, I'm afraid I don't understand." Lucinda pulls herself back together.

"Of course you don't, I don't know why I overestimated you. So dim, so dim." I grit my teeth. "You see, the Malfoys need to feel that they intimidate _everyone_. And they do, very well, except for me. Which is why I have to use my brilliant acting abilities. Do you really think the Malfoys could stand to be near someone more cunning and sly than them? Do you think their ego could handle that? No, they wouldn't be able to stand it. So it is your and my job to act like the perfect, inferior women they expect us to be." Wow. Once again, Mother impresses me. She's cunning, manipulative, and knows how to get what she wants. But there is a flaw in her logic: Narcissa can take on my mother in her _sleep_. Still, it makes me think about the Malfoys, and one Malfoy in particular. I thought that maybe I finally found a family who would accept my "attitude" and outspoken personality. But maybe I'm wrong, maybe they wouldn't accept me, maybe this Friday they'll throw me out of their house, maybe Malfoy will want a more "tame" girl. And that burns much more than it should.

"Alright, it's almost noon. Do you have your purse? Your wand? Your make-up bag? How about your scarf? You need to fix your hair, hold still while I cast a quick-"

"Mother! Stop! You're suffocating me!" I yell, trying to fend off her prying hands.

"You need to look perfect. Right now, you're just acceptable. Where did I put my wand?" Mother goes over to the living room to find her wand. It's in the dining room.

Stealthily, I walk past her and to the door, trying to open it quietly. "Pansy, what are you doing? Get back in here, you still have ten minutes until you're fashionably late." I don't feel like playing social politics, so I run out the door and down the steps in my heels and skirt.

"Don't worry, it'll be fine. I'll be perfect," I say, turning to face Mother once I'm outside.

"Don't you dare mess this up, or you'll regret it! If I hear that you were even one step out of line-"

"Got it, bye!" I spin quickly and Disapparate. I'll pay for that later.

The picture I see once I land takes my breath away. I say picture, because there is absolutely no way the mansion in front of me is real.

I'm standing on a cobblestone path in the middle of two huge gargoyle dragons. I look up at Malfoy Manor in complete awe.

Terraces, vines, black bricks, turrets, large windows, statues, brilliant architecture, bright green grass, dark green trees; every detail of the house was perfectly designed.

I ogle the landscape for bit longer before deciding it's game time.

I walk up the dark, brick path, my palms sweating. I ascend the limestone steps, reach the door, grab the knocker,and...

Letting go of the knocker, I take a deep breath and wipe my palms on my skirt. Why am I so nervous? This isn't normal. _Okay Pansy, let's go_.

I reach for the knocker again and just before it hits the door, I pull away. Wow, it's getting really hot. My head feels damp. My palm keeps sweating. That's so gross.

_Parkinson! Get ahold of yourself. It's game time!' I hesitate. Okay, on the count of three. _

One, two, two and a half... three... four... five... five and a half... si-

_Oh you priss!_ I grab the handle and knock three times. Oh my salazar. Did I just knock? Yes, I did. Oh no, now someone will have to open the door!

Maybe it will be a house elf? I hope it's an elf.

Buy no one answers the door. Confusion quickly rides out my anxiety. Maybe I should knock again? No, that would seem too pushy. But if they didn't hear me and I wait, they'll think I was late. So maybe I should just knock? But what if- oh dear Salazar, when did I get so weak?

I reach for the handle and just before I knock, the door opens. As I tumble inside, the knocker closes on my hand. I run into someone. And _bloody hell_'.

"Mrs. Malfoy!"

"Pansy, I didn't expect you to be 'dropping in' so soon." She's smirking. Oh my Salazar. I quickly stand up and pull my shoulders back, trying to preserve whatever dignity I have left... Too bad I started in the negatives.

"My apologies, Mrs. Malfoy. I thought I was late, actually." She closes the door and pulls me inside.

"You are perfectly on time. Good for you, being punctual is a necessity of mine. I am rather impartial to all the politics on being fashionably late."

"Yes, I agree." Hah!

Pansy- 402 points.

Mother- 0.

"I will show you the parlor, we'll meet Draco there." I follow Mrs. Malfoy and begin my perusal of the manor. Whatever feelings aroused from seeing Malfoy disappears in a second as I take in the view.

Outside the manor is beautiful, but inside is absolutely, undeniably, irrevocably amazing. Mrs. Malfoy escorts me through the great hall with portraits of the Malfoy family, through the dining room where a twenty-seated oak table rests, through another dining room with an even longer table and a huge fireplace, and passed the ballroom until we reached the parlor. Large, leather chairs are seated around a white table. We walk in and I look around at the beige wallpaper, black trim, and family portraits.

One word describes the mansion: serious.

My house has a bit of an eerie feel to it; it's large, dark, and quiet. Here, it's large, dark, and quiet, but in a serious, business-like way, as if this is an office building, not a house. The design is modern and sleek, with black marble floors and beautiful fireplaces. Everything is big and shiny- so intimidating. But of course, what better abode for the Malfoys?

"You seem deep in thought." I'm brought back to focus at Mrs. Malfoy's words.

"I was simply thinking that your house suits your family, and it's also quite amazing." She smirks.

"And my family isn't amazing?"

"Your family is the best in Pureblood society. I only meant that your house has a very strong presence, much like yourself, but it's also amazing. The design is original." Judging by Mrs. Malfoy's smirk, I can tell she's joking. Well, not exactly joking, but it reminds me of how I tease others by twisting their words. We may very well have multiple similarities in our personalities. That makes me incredibly proud.

"You seem to be quite original as well, Pansy."

"I try to keep things interesting." She laughs.

"That you do. I must say, I was quite impressed by your eloquence and argument last Friday. Not many people can hold their own against my son in a debate."

"Thank you." I don't offer any more than that, considering my mixed feelings over her son. She studies me for a second before smiling. Then a house elf scuttles in carrying a tray of cookies.

"Oh, elf! Go to Draco's room and tell him to come to the parlor." The elf looks at Mrs. Malfoy's feet.

"Yes ma'am, right away." She hurries out the door and up the stairs. Mrs. Malfoy watches her go.

"I pity the life they live." I'm taken aback by her words. I did _not_ expect that to come out of her mouth. How do I respond? Her statement was perfectly neutral, I don't know if she is actually sympathizing with the elves or just saying she wouldn't want that life.

"Their lives do seem rather unfortunate, so I'll be thankful for mine," I respond carefully. Mrs. Malfoy smiles brightly. I'm starting to see less ice and more warmth.

"I fully agree with you." For some reason, it feels like I just passed a test.

The parlor door opens and I jump in my seat. Malfoy saunters in with a bored expression. Since I'm in the seat with the back facing him, Malfoy doesn't notice me.

"You needed me, Mother?"

"Yes Draco, Pansy is visiting the Manor and it would be lovely if you could host her for the day." Mrs. Malfoy looks at where I'm sitting quickly then back up at her son. Slowly, Malfoy's eyes follow where his mother's just looked. When he sees me turn in my chair, he grimaces imperceptibly. Malfoy stares at me for a second and I'm not sure whether to say hello or not. Then he half smirks and turns back to Mrs. Malfoy.

"Oh Mother, you should have informed me earlier. Unfortunately, I arranged a Quidditch game with the boys. I've got to brush up on my Seeker skills before school begins."

I cross my arms and raise an eyebrow, as if to say, _What Seeker skills?_

Malfoy seems to understand and he glares at me.

"I've told you multiple times throughout the week and three times this morning," Mrs. Malfoy says sternly as she stands up.

"I must have blocked it out." I glare at him.

"You can take Pansy along with you. Is that alright, Pansy?" Even though her voice is still slightly cold, I appreciate her asking. I smile brightly.

"Oh yes, that would be perfectly alright."

"Mother, most of the boys have had dinner with Ms. Parkinson, and she didn't quite suit their fancy. They'll be rather rude to her."

"Pansy seems to be able to take care of herself." I smirk inside, incredibly proud that the Queen of All Elegance thinks so.

"And I do love watching a good Quidditch game. That is, if you can put on a good game," I say condescendingly. Malfoy's lip twitches.

"I can _always_ put on a good game." I smirk as he starts to walk out the door.

"Draco," Mrs. Malfoy calls. He turns around reluctantly. "I may be wrong, it's been a while since I've played, but don't you need a broomstick to play Quidditch?" I gawk. She played Quidditch?

"Of course, Mother," Malfoy says with an icy smile before Disapparating. I was scared there would be an awkward silence between her and me, but a second later, Malfoy reappears with a Firebolt.

"Ms. Parkinson, let's go."

"Pansy! Just call her Pansy. You two are kids and should enjoy it while you can," there's a melancholy look on Mrs. Malfoy's face and I'm taken aback. That's the first show of emotion I've seen her give. Then it's gone. "Now go, I'll be in my room." With that, she leaves the parlor. I turn around but Malfoy's already out the back door.

"Hey, wait!" I run after him.

"Hurry up, Parkinson," Malfoy calls from outside. I close the door behind me and look around. There's a fine stone path neatly laid out between two gardens. And the gardens... wow. They rival Mother's. No, they _trample_ Mother's. These flowers are bigger, more exotic, rare, and beautiful. And like the rest of the manor, the plants are dark and imposing. "Are you coming or not?" Malfoy asks impatiently.

"Yes yes, don't get your knickers in a bunch," I murmur, walking down the path towards him. Malfoy mounts his Firebolt and waits for me. Oh, it's so pretty. I've never ridden one. Well, I've never ridden a broomstick besides when I learned how to fly in my first year at Hogwarts. Mother says it's "much too improper for a lady of class".

I stand before Malfoy, and he stares at me expectantly.

"Wait, do you think I'm going to ride that thing?" I ask, astonished.

"Why else would I be waiting for you?" Malfoy looks at me like I'm stupid. Well he's the stupid one if he actually thinks I'm going on that broom.

"I can walk. Just tell me where to go," I say.

"It will take you two hours to get there and I'm not going to wait when it will take me five minutes."

"I'll walk quickly," I say, crossing my arms defiantly. I would Apparate, but I've already done it once today and don't want to get a headache.

"Mother will kill me if she knew you walked."

"I won't tell." Malfoy scrutinizes me for a second, then shrugs.

"Fine, but I won't be punished if you break an ankle." He turns away and flies forward a couple feet before looking back at me, smirking. "Wait a minute, are you _scared_ of riding?"

"Of course not, that's ridiculous."

"Have you ridden before?"

"Don't be dim, of course I have."

"Well then, why don't you want to fly?" The word "fly" makes my stomach queasy.

"You have a perfect pair of legs, you should use them." Malfoy smirks again.

"Parkinson, did you just call my legs perfect?" I roll my eyes.

"Don't be so arrogant, I wasn't talking about you particularly."

"Sure. Well, since you're too scared-"

"I'm not scared!"

"-to fly, I'll just meet you at the Quidditch pitch at the end of the path."

"Fine, be fat and fly there!" I yell.

"Be afraid and walk there," he calls back.

"I'm not- Oh for the wit of Salazar!" I walk to the front of Malfoy's broom and grab the handle.

"Whoa there, what are you doing?" he asks.

"What does it look like I'm doing? Trying to get on. Move back."

"No, no. I ride, you sit in the back." I roll my eyes but walk around the broom.

"Men and their egos- way too big."

"Women often tell me mine's bigger than most," says Malfoy with a wink. I roll my eyes again and mount the Firebolt. Of course I forget I'm wearing a skirt and it rides up to the top of my thigh. Malfoy laughs as I try and discreetly shimmy it down.

"Guess I'm not the only one with nice legs." Before I have the chance to process his words, Malfoy bolts down the stone path. I let out a scream as I'm almost thrown of the broom and I clutch his waist. "Hold on tight," Malfoy says.

I can barely hear him over the roaring wind. Then the arse decides to do an upside down loop and I start screaming. And I don't stop.

Squeezing my eyes shut and nearly crushing Malfoy's ribcage, I feel him spin, loop, and lurch to a stop just to zoom forward. I know at one point he's whipping around some trees because I feel twigs smack my cheeks and snag my hair. There must be a lake somewhere because water is spraying onto my legs and waist. But no, he's not done yet. Malfoy flies up and up and up and I feel the anticipation building. Then- and I won't forgive him for as long as I live- We. Are. Falling. I scream at the top of my lungs as my stomach drops and we speed down. My eyelids peel open and we're heading straight for the ground.

"MALFOY!" I yell. Just before we hit the ground, he pulls up sharply and I grasp his waist tightly. He flies up again and I can see the Quidditch pitch. _Oh thank Salazar._ Then we're plummeting again. I scream and shut my eyes and curse Malfoy to the moon. He lurches up again, laughing, and repeats the process three times before we finally stop. But I know better than to believe it. Malfoy has another trick up his sleeve.

"Alright Parkinson, I know I have a nice body, but you can let go now," says the stupid, obnoxious arse. I don't let go. "Parkinson? Don't worry, I'm done, no more, you can get off." Okay... fine.

But I can't move. I can't even open my eyes. They stay glued shut and my arms are locked around Malfoy's waist.

He turns, or as much as he can given my hold, and shakes my shoulder. "Parkinson, come on, we're not going anywhere." I would move if I could, but my head is still spinning, my ears are buzzing, and I have no idea where my stomach went. "Okay Parks, I'm sorry, honestly. It was just a little fun, I didn't know you were _that_ much of a baby." Then I realize who I'm holding- who I'm _hugging_. Oh Salazar! I spring off the broomstick and shove Malfoy, anger coursing trough me.

"You arrogant, obnoxious, self-righteous git!" I hit his arm but he only laughs.

"Nice vocabulary you have there," he says, unfazed. I was about to show him just how nice a vocabulary I have until I notice the Quidditch pitch.

1. It's a third of the size of Hogwarts'.

2. It's on the shabby side; the boundaries roughly made with wood. I can't believe the Malfoys would have something less than top-of-the-line on their property.

3. No one's here.

"Where's your team?" I ask.

"What team?" Is he kidding?

"Your 'boys' that you're playing a game with."

"Oh yeah, there's no game," Says Malfoy, shrugging.

"_What?_"

"I thought if I told Mother that I had a Quidditch game, she wouldn't make me babysit."

"_Babysit_?"

"Yes, but I guessed wrong so now we have to pretend that we went to a game." I cross my arms.

"_I_ don't have to pretend."

"Oh yes you do, if you want to lean how to ride a broom."

"I already know how to ride!"

"It's quite fun, really," says Malfoy as he does one of those loops again. _Showoff_. "Doesn't this look fun? You know you want to try." It _does_ look fun- when you're just watching. Not so much when you're actually the one catapulting through air. Still, I watch with a bit of appeal. Malfoy lands in front of me. "Come on, I'll teach you."

"I don't want to learn how to fly!"

"I thought you already knew how," says Malfoy with that stupid smirk.

"You also thought that using another coat of Slickeasy on your hair was a good idea- it wasn't."

"On the contrary, my hair was born perfect, it doesn't need any spells. And the ladies love it." I laugh shortly.

"And how much do you pay to get them to say that?"

"Let's just say it's not about how _much_ I _give_ them, it's about how _well _I _do_ them," Malfoy says with a waggle of his eyebrows.

"Oh Salazar, you're a pig." He laughs and jumps back onto the Firebolt.

"Hop on, don't you want to ride my stick, Parks?" I roll my eyes at his innuendo.

"Is _that_ the pick-up line that's gotten half my roommates into your bed? Pathetic."

"Only half?" pouts Malfoy.

I put my hands on the broom and try to pull myself up. He's too high.

"Lower the broom," I order.

"Without a please? I think not."

"I'm not going to beg."

"You wouldn't be the first."

"Okay, I'm done talking." He just has a knack for turning everything I say into a dirty joke.

"It's normal, after a minute you'll only make incoherent sounds." I groan. "Exactly."

"You're impossible." Before he could make another remark, I jump onto the broom then swing my leg over. I'm sure my skirt rode up, but at least I didn't have to beg or listen to another perverted joke.

"Well, that took the fun out of making you beg."

"I don't beg."

"Apparently you don't fly, either."

"I can fly!" I think about shooting forward, like Malfoy did earlier, just to prove him wrong. I imagine rocketing around the field at sixty miles an hour, feeling the wind in my hair. But what I get is moving maybe two inches forward at best.

Shutting my eyes, I grip the handle as hard as I can, until my muscles start to shake, and I try to will the broom forward. It hovers pathetically. Malfoy laughs and my eyes snap open. He's _so_ annoying.

"You look like you're having a seizure. Loosen up and don't try so hard, just be calm."

"Easy for you to say."

"I know, everything just comes naturally to me. I can't imagine how difficult life must be for all of you mundane people." I roll my eyes but ignore him. '_Okay, just be calm, don't think about it, just go. Don't think about 'how to do it, just think about '_dong_ it. Don't over think the process, but still remember the basics. What are the basics again? Never mind don't worry about it, just try to-'_

"Pansy, you're flying a broom, not contemplating the origin of the universe."

"I'm sorry! It's hard to not think." Why is this so bloody difficult?

"You need to relax, don't strangle the Firebolt, she didn't do anything to you. And stop squeezing your eyes shut, look straight ahead. Oh, and slow your breathing."

"Um... What was the first one again?" Malfoy sighs in exasperation, like he's talking to a little kid. Then he leans into me and grabs my hands. I jump. "What are you doing?"

"Unclenching your hands, stupid."

"Oh." He takes my hands off the head and places them back softly, positioning them one in front of the other. When I reclench, he re-unclenches until I get out of the habit of "strangling". Malfoy face is almost on my shoulder and I can't help but look at him. His profile looks just like his front: perfect. His jawline is chiseled out of granite and his nose is even. His eyelashes... they brush his cheek every time Malfoy blinks and-

"Enjoying the view, Parks?" I jump at Malfoy's voice. "Look straight ahead, like I told you." I huff and turn to face forward. "Now, follow my breath, don't over think it. If you just relax, then flying will be second nature." I nod stiffly, fully aware that Malfoy's body is pressed into mine.

Then we're quiet. His breathing is slow in my ear and even slower to process in my muddled brain. His chest rises and falls against my back and I can feel his steady heartbeat. Then I'm aware that my hands are sweating and my heart is racing and my hair might smell like wood and now my breathing is way off-

"Dammit, Parkinson, I told you to relax, not tense up and pant like a dog," Malfoy admonishes. I frown.

"Well maybe if your weren't so close I could concentrate and relax better!" Oh no, that came out wrong. Malfoy's smirk is practically palpable.

"I understand how utterly distracting I am, just _try_ to concentrate without straining yourself." I don't think Malfoy understand just how distracting he is, but that correction doesn't need to be made. _Okay, shut Malfoy out, don't focus on him, focus on your breathing._ Instead of a distraction, Malfoy's breathing becomes a guide. I find my heartbeat slowing and my mind shutting up. My hands nestle together, ready to ride. And that's what happens next, I ride. We're moving- no, _speeding_ through the air. We're flying- I'm flying! The broom shoots forward and it's Malfoy's turn to hang on to me. I scream in delight as I circle the pitch and fly up into the air, pulling a Malfoy. I repeat everything he did, with a hundred times more excitement and thrill. Loops, spins, sharp turns, Drops of Death; I do anything my mind can think of with the giddiness of a kid at Honeyduke's. Malfoy laughs and clutches me tighter as I make turn. The butterflies in my stomach make me increase the speed, going as fast as I can.

"Whoa there, Speedy, slow down." I make a sharp turn left and right, zigzagging across the field.

"Payback's a bitch, Malfoy! How is it being the passenger?" I yell over the wind.

"Quite fun, and a nice view." Malfoy pinches my butt.

"Hey! No harassing the driver!" He pinches me again.

"Too good an opportunity to pass up." He can pass _this_ up his arse. I pull my arm back and elbow Malfoy in the chest just as he picks up his hand to pinch me.

"Oh shit," I hear him say. I laugh, until I realize that

Malfoy

Fell

Off

The

Broom.

"Malfoy!" I scream as I turn the broom around. We're at least forty feet off the ground. I can't reach him! Where's my wand? Digging in my jacket, my hand reaches smooth oak. I pull my wand out. Ten feet from death.

"Aresto momentum!" I scream. Malfoy immediately freezes and I'm still racing towards him. I try to stop, but I'm so off balance with my wand and I crash into him. I'm thrown off the broom and careen to the ground, landing on Malfoy. His shoulder slams into my chest. The wind is knocked out of me and I lie on the ground, gasping for breath. When air finally returns to my lungs, I stretch my body, making sure nothing's broken. I yelp and bolt upright, realizing I was sprawled across Malfoy's chest. Malfoy!

He's lying on the ground, not moving.

"Malfoy! Malfoy, get up!" I kneel down next to him and shake his shoulder. He's unconscious. I lower my head to his mouth and sigh in relief when I hear faint breathing. "Come on, you need to wake up!" What if he has a concussion? He can't sleep! I grab Malfoy's cheeks and lift his face up, checking his eyes. Good, they aren't rolled back. How long will he be passed out for? Should I fly him to the manor? "Wake up, wake up." My throat closes and I'm on the verge of hyperventilating. "God dammit Draco, please, wake up!" And my heart stops.

He's smirking. That arrogant arse is _smirking_. Then his eyes open and there's a glimmer of victory.

"Finally! You said please _and_ you begged." I drop Malfoy's head and it hits the ground.

"Ow! How many times am I going to land on the ground? That's makes two, and that's twice more than a Malfoy should ever be on the floor!" I get up. The "crazy, mental woman" switch flips on and I'm yelling obscenities that would make Lucinda blush. I kick Malfoy in the stomach with the toe of my shoe. "Bloody hell woman!" I kick his side. Then his head. If he doesn't have a concussion, I'm going to give him one. When I pull my foot back to kick again, Malfoy grabs it and pulls. I land on my arse. Lovely. He smirks and I stand up and walk away.

"Parkinson, wait up!" Malfoy calls, laughing. Prick. He catches up to me and I speed up, but he's in front of me. Damn his long legs. "It was just a joke."

"Just a joke? Just a _joke_?! I thought you were _dead_ for a second or had some serious injury! And you just wanted to scare the hell out of me so you could hear me beg? How arrogant can you get?"

"Wow, I didn't know you cared so much," he says with mock surprise.

"I don't care about _you_, I care about what your _mother_ will do to me." Malfoy's smile eases away.

"Don't worry, she wouldn't have minded," he says in an almost bored tone. That was a quick change.

"Oh yes, I'm sure she wouldn't mind at all if her only son died. She absolutely wouldn't care. I have a feeling Mrs. Malfoy is very terrifying when she's angry. Not to mention Lucius."

"On second thoughts, you're right."

"Well that's a first." He smirks. "I meant that you realized I'm right, not that it's the first time I've ever been right." I glare. Why does he make everything so difficult?

"My parents would be concerned, especially Father. They wouldn't want to see all their investments in their only heir disappear." Before his words seek in, Malfoy raises another point. "Why do you call my mother Mrs. Malfoy but my father Lucius?" Whoops.

"Oh, I didn't realize I did. It was just a mistake."

"I'm sure that was it."

"Yup." Malfoy looks like he's about to change the subject, then decides to do his weird and incredibly irritating "I can understand everything you're thinking" thing.

"Are you more comfortable with Father? Is he less frightening?"

"Comfortable?" I laugh. "There is no _comfortable_ with your family. Your parents are both just as intimidating. It's just that..."

"Just say it, you already admitted you think I'm intimidating, so what else?" Damn.

"Fine, it's just that your mother is quite imposing." Now Malfoy laughs like I'm crazy.

"And my father isn't? Have you _met_ Lucius Malfoy?"

"You wouldn't understand, it's different for women. "

"Enlighten me."

"It's about female dominance."

"And you actually expected to have dominance over my mother? That was naive."

"No, of course not. Women exude this sort of power that's a marker of their social status. Mrs. Malfoy's power is beyond any other woman's I've ever met, even my mother's. And that's extremely impressive, as well as satisfying. Your mother is the Pureblood Queen, literally, and it's very intimidating for a woman." Malfoy seems to soak it all in.

"So... you're actually considered a woman?" I throw my hands into the air, exasperated. _That's_ what he got out of that speech?

"Yes! I am! Ever since _these_ came in." I point to my breasts. Malfoy stares at them.

"Oh yes, God's gift to men." I roll my eyes and groan, walking back to the path. Malfoy follows, laughing, until I find something that will definitely make him stop for a week.

"Um, Malfoy..."

"What?" He follows my line of vision. "Oh no! My baby! What did you _do_ to her!" Malfoy runs to his broken Firebolt.

"It must have broken when we crashed."

"How could you break it?! What's wrong with you?" I roll my eyes at Malfoy's hysterics.

"Either that or you would be dead."

"What's life without Dolly?" I face palm myself.

"You've got to be kidding me."

"And Father! He's going to murder me! All because of you!"

"Calm down, he won't mind if you tell him some amazing story about how well you played before you got the broom smashed."

"Before _you_ got the broom smashed." Malfoy considers my suggestion for a second. "Yes, except Father won't believe me if _I _tell him," he turns to me. "You have to tell him."

"I have to praise you? To your parents? How about no?"

"How about I tell them you broke Dolly?"

"How about I tell them you lied about the game to get rid of me?"

"How about I tell them you tried to kill me?"

"I didn't try to kill you! You fell off after harassing me!"

"I fell off after you _elbowed_ me," he counters. I look for another argument but find none. I stamp my foot into the ground with a huff and cross my arms. I never lose arguments. "So, we're settle; you say how great I was- that I caught the snitch, even- and I won't tell them you broke my broom."

I glare at Malfoy before saying, "Deal."

He grabs all the pieces of the Firebolt and we start the trek back. Afraid of an awkward silence I ask, "Why do you have such a terrible Quidditch pitch?" Okay, the question came out way more blunt than intended. Malfoy glares at me.

"Are you insulting my field?"

"No... I've merely observed that since every single aspect of your house is so perfectly designed, it makes your well-made pitch seem flawed," I attempt to cover my arse. Of course he doesn't buy it.

"Actually, that 'well-made' Quidditch pitch was built by me." I'm taken aback.

"You... built something? With your own two hands?" Malfoy smirks.

"The entire thing. No help from anyone. Impressive, isn't it?"

"But why not just have your father hire someone to build it?" Malfoy gets a dark look.

"When I was younger, I was absolutely horrid at flying." My eyes just keep getting bigger.

"Draco Malfoy, horrid at something?" I gasp.

"Yes, I know, quite a shocker. Just try to use your imagination the best you can."

"I'll try my best," I respond dryly.

"Father tried to train me for a few weeks, but we both knew I was terrible. He told me I was a waste of his time, unsalvageable, blah blah blah, but of course I had to appear the best to the public. Father always boasted to other fathers about how 'amazing' I was, and I went along with him, smiling and accepting the fake compliments. Then he bought the entire Quidditch team Firebolts in third year. I magically became Slytherin's new Seeker. I was enraged. Granger said that I bought my way onto the team and that I didn't make it because of pure talent. And the worst part was knowing that the filthy little Mudblood was right. So over the break I scouted out my property, looking for any place I could train in peace. Then I found that huge empty land. It's not nearly as big as Hogwart's, but I figured it was better than nothing. I didn't want my father's help at all; I wouldn't waste his time again. So I spent weeks building the pitch. I had to make the balls myself, since it would be a dead giveaway if I asked Father for those. When I finished building and making the stone path, I practiced nonstop. All day I would be out there, and sometimes well into the night. Once Mother noticed, but I told her I was out with friends and there were no more questions. After mastering all the tricks I saw professional Quidditch players perform, I was ready to show Father. It took five days of convincing and good behavior to finally get him to watch me. When he did, he went through a list of moves. I executed each one perfectly, and once Father ran out of moves, there was an apathetic sort of look about his face. He walked up to me and sighed, saying, 'I suppose I have to show up at your games now'. He Disapparated and that was that. So, there's the story of that sorry excuse of a Quidditch pitch. Now, let's get back to the comfort of knowing that I am god and perfect in every way possible." I laugh, actually humored by his arrogance.

"If you were god, comfort would be the _last_ thing I would feel."

"Probably satisfied, since you would've already guessed I'm god." I look at Malfoy's shattered Firebolt guilty, Lucius will probably be extremely angry- Lucinda would curse me to hell. I touch Malfoy's shoulder just before we reach his house. He stops and turns to me, giving me a questioning look.

"I had fun today," I admit.

"Besides the flying and the fake game and the 'almost getting me killed' part?" he smirks.

"_Especially_ because of the 'almost getting you killed' part. And I actually had fun flying, thank you for teaching me." My hand is still on his shoulder and Malfoy fully turns, leaning in closer.

"Even though my looks were a big distraction?" he asks sexily.

"Even though your weird looks were a distraction." He smirks and his hand comes to the side of my waist. My breath quickens and I lean-

"Draco? Are you outside?" I jump back at Mrs. Malfoy's voice and try to get control of my racing heart. Malfoy smirks and walks past the garden, opening the door.

"Now I'm inside- hello Mother." I follow him in. Mrs. Malfoy is in the parlor, writing a letter.

"You two were out for a while, how was the game?" Malfoy looks up at me pointedly like I'm supposed to say something. What does he-

"Oh yes! The game. It was quite fantastic, actually. Your son was brilliant, the star of the team. In fact, he caught the snitch and won the entire game! I was thoroughly impressed." I cringed about five times while saying that.

"That's nice dear, good job." She looks up briefly, then gasps when she sees the Firebolt. Well, what remained of it, anyway.

"What happened to your broom? Your father will so unhappy."

"Just as he caught the snitch a _bludger_ came and nearly-" I began, but Malfoy had a different story to tell.

"Pansy was riding with me and she knocked me off the broom and I was almost killed. But I saved myself and she crashed the broom." I glare at Malfoy with as much venom as I can muster, until Mrs. Malfoy turns to me and I look as innocent as I can.

"Oh Pansy, how unfortunate, you should have knocked Draco off harder," she says with a smirk.

"I didn't mean to push him off, contrary to Malfoy's tale. But yes, I agree, it was rather unfortunate I didn't happen to knock him off harder." The look on Malfoy's face is golden.

Yes dear, that is called a backfire. Standing, Mrs. Malfoy packs her letter into an envelope and seals it.

"I'm going to find Talon and deliver this letter. Pansy, it was lovely having you, I hope to see you soon."

"Likewise, Mrs. Malfoy. And thank you for having me," I reply kindly. She almost smiles and walks out the parlor.

"'Likewise, Mrs. Malfoy, and thank you for having me, the sweet little angel that I am.'" Malfoy mocks. I shove his arms.

"Ow! I'm pretty sure I'll bruise from those kicks of yours."

"I hope so. And what happened to our deal about the broom?" I accuse.

"Well I made the deal, then remembered that you almost killed me, you _did_ kill my precious Dolly, and you insulted my ego numerous times."

"I think it's good you and Dolly get some time apart." He smirks.

"Oh, don't worry luv, there's enough of me to go around." I roll my eyes.

"So ridiculous."

"But you like it."

"You tell yourself that, Malfoy." Despite everything that happened today-and everything I'm choosing to overlook- I've actually had fun. That realization shocks me. Earlier I told Malfoy that I had fun, but now that I'm actually thinking about it, this is the first time a guy has held my attention for more than an hour, without even making out! And I want to spend another day with him. Suddenly, I feel awkward. I've never been in the position of asking a guy to hang out. I don't want to seem needy or make a big deal out of asking, but there's no simple way with Malfoy. I just got for it.

"So," I say, nonchalant.

"So," he repeats.

"Do you want to meet up next Wednesday or Friday or something like that? School's starting up soon and we'll be extremely busy preparing so..." I hope I didn't just sound like an idiot. I really don't want to wait until next week. Malfoy smirks.

"Busy tomorrow?" Thank Salazar.

"Tomorrow sounds good. If you find a corpse in my room, that would be me, brutally killed by my mother for staying out so late."

"You're building ties with the Malfoys, she should be very proud."

"Yeah? And how strong are these ties?" He taps a finger to his chin. "Strong enough to drag me through another day with you. So your house?"I freeze, realizing I accidentally implied that we'll be at my house. I don't know why that makes me nervous- we'll be hanging out no matter the house. It just feels more personal if he'll be in _my_ house.

"Unless you want to stay in yours," I offer. Take the offer, take it!

"But your parents are much more interesting than mine, they actually fight," Malfoy says excitedly. I roll my eyes.

"We can't all have parents with perfect relationships."

"Oh no, mine just coincidentally forget that the other exists. Very boring." I doubt his parents don't get along; they're the power couple.

"Well then, prepare for 24/7 action. Bring popcorn."

"So this will be an all day all night kind of thing?" Malfoy asks with a mischievous smile.

"No luck, you're out of my room by seven."

"So we'll be in your room _all_ day?" I laugh and I shake my head.

"You're impossible."

"Learn to love it, Parks."

"What's with this 'Parks' thing?" Malfoy shrugs.

"Parkinson is too long."

"It's possible to call me Pansy."

"And it's possible to call me Draco."

"Touché. Until tomorrow, Malfoy," I call as I turn, Disapparating.

"Try not to miss me too much, Parks."

**So here's the deal, my stories are like my new born babies, and reviews are like the extra hours they sleep in the morning. I cherish not waking up at 4 am, and I cherish reviews. **

**You know what to do. **

**I was kind of upset after writing this, but not too much. I realized that eventually I'm going to have to crush Pansy a little bit because I was being mean and made her think of Narcissa sand Lucius as her role model parents. While I really wanted to make them knew amazing people, I had a Harry Potted marathon over the weekend and realized that they would have been OOC. I also came to remember that Lucius is a complete ASS! He kicked Dobby. Enough said. Narcissa is pretty cool, so we'll see where I go with those two. Also, even though it's hard, I can't make Malfoy an amazing guy who falls in love with Pansy. I have three more years to go through(stupid me) and he has a lot of maturing to do. All I can say is, expect some crazy things to happen, because ideas are starting to form in my head and they're getting pretty wild. Thanks! Review! Follow! Favorite! Yada yadda. I'll try to update soon. Mwah. **


	6. Dent in my Ego

**So first of all, did you notice the NAME CHANGE?! I like it, do you guys? Since this story is no longer a short little thing, I made a different title that will fit better. Tell me what you think!**

**Second, I realize I've been making Malfoy seem to cool and bad-boyish. For a good part of the books and movies he's cool, bad-boyish, and witty, but also whiny and childish. I'm trying to keep him as IC as I can, it's a bit difficult. But towards the end, Malfoy's not in the books as much. Once we get into the next few years, I can do whatever I want with him. **

_**You're safe for now, Draco, but you can't hide behind JR for long. **_

**Third, it's been a little longer since I've updated. Actually I don't know, has it? It feels like it has. I've just** **been trying to figure this all out and TRYING to stay MOTIVATED because I've never finished a story before; any story I've tried to write has never been finished, no matter how much I like the characters or plot. But I'll try to stick this through! I've never had people actually read my work before so... it's really weird to think that people are actually having reactions to this story and its kind of intimidating... because everyone judges! But the criticism's been awesome (so far). Thanks for reading this guys, I have an entire storyline planned out but I don't know if I'll ever write it out so... not sure if this will be the last time I talk to you guys. **

**Fourth, on to my favorite part! I can't believe people are actually reading this. **

**So first of all, dis you notice the NAME CHANGE?! I like it, do you guys? Since this story is no longer a short little thing, I made a different title that will fit better. Tell me what you think!**

**Second, I realize I've been making Malfoy seem to cool and bad-boyish. For a good part of the books and movies he's cool, bad-boyish, and witty, but also whiny and childish. I'm trying to keep him as IC as I can, it's a bit difficult. But towards the end, Malfoy's not in the books as much. Once we get into the next few years, I can do whatever I want with him. **

_**You're safe for now, Draco, but you can't hide behind JR for long. **_

**Third, it's been a little longer since I've updated. Actually I don't know, has it? It feels like it has. I've just been trying to figure this all out and TRYING to stay MOTIVATED because I've never finished a story before; any story I've tried to write has never been finished, no matter how much I like the characters or plot. But I'll try to stick this through! I've never had people actually read my work before so... it's really weird to think that people are actually having reactions to this story and its kind of intimidating... because everyone judges! But the criticism's been awesome (so far). Thanks for reading this guys, I have an entire storyline planned out but I don't know if I'll ever write it out so... not sure if** **this will be the last time I talk to you guys. **

**Fourth, on to my favorite part! I can't believe people are actually reading this. Haha okay. **

**And the first reviewer for this chapter is...**

**Chocochica4200: Thanks for your review! It really got me motivated to update when I reread it so thanks. You're awesome. :) **

**beatrueheart: This chapter might not have been written if it weren't for your review. I was being particularly lazy and unmotivated, then I thought of your review and I was like, "If I liked someone else's story and they chose to watch T.V and shop on Forever 21 and just stare at a wall doing nothing all day instead of writing their story, I would really hate that person". So you got me motivated. Reviews really do work! Oh, and especially if they include the spirit of Dobby. That was basically the deal girl! I'm SO happy you've been reading this and that you've given funny, fun, and awesome reviews. Pansy would appreciate it too. **

**Guest #1: I'm glad you like all the characters! I don't know your name but thanks for the review anyways. Haha.**

**Crazyswatiaim4: I like the story too! I didn't want it to make Malfoy seem mushy or anything, I figured he would be super frank and nonchalant about it. But glad you liked it whatever way it turned out!**

**Oh and thanks for reviewing my other story! We'll see some of that Dransy action later... probably. **

**Ann: Thank yas! I'm glad you think it's well-written because I've had a lot of "Oh that was crap Dria, what did you just write?" moments. Haha hope you like this chapter!**

**GingerHannah: Hey girl. Okay I'm trying super hard to keep Draco and Pansy in their sass personalities**. **That's my favorite part about them and I really hope I'm not loosing that. Did Pansy loose any in this chapter? I don't know, I always say that I screwed them up whenever I finish a chapter. Haha thanks for the review! More Pansy/Narcissa moments will be coming up (if I get to finishing the story). **

**Guest #2(with all the caps lock words): YOU'RE REVIEW MADE ME SO HAPPY! I smiled so much when I read it on the way to school. Hope you like this chapter just as much or even morree!**

**ParkinsonP: Hey there. Love the name. **

**YOU'RE THE FIRST PERSON TO FAVORITE MEEE! That's actually so awesome. At least I'm doing something right in life. Haha I'm glad you loved it! You better love this one too, it's got some interesting stuff goin on...**

**Guest #3: Glad you think this story's cool, I do too. Haha hope you like this chapter! If you're reading it... :P**

**Rook9: YOU'RE MY FIRST FOLLOWER(I think, but I'm pretty sure)! And thanks for following this story! Let me know what you think about this chapter. :D**

**Cassandra Karin: You're the second person to favorite this story! Thanks girl (I'm assuming you're a girl haha)! Tell me what you think of this chapter! Please and thanks!**

**Larissa van Alberict: Thanks for following! Hope you like this chapter it should be good! Review what you think too! :p**

**Now on to the STORY!**

* * *

*Dent in my Ego*

There are three things I realize I've failed to do:

1) Ask Malfoy when he's coming.

2) Tell Mother that Malfoy's coming.

3) Stop thinking about Malfoy coming.

I'm lying in my hideout underneath a latch in the ballroom, behind the back window curtains. I discovered it while trying to escape some desperate boy at one of Mother's annual Christmas balls. In my gown, I ran through a crowd of old people and hid behind the window curtains. For a good ten minutes I stood there, until I noticed that one of the floorboards squeaked when under weight. I picked up the loose floorboard where a little nook was revealed. It wasn't big, maybe five by ten feet, but it had potential, and it was definitely better than having to dance with hideous, awkward looking boys. This nook has been my hideout ever since, especially during Christmas balls. I laid out cushions and blankets across the floor and sides. A little table was crammed in there too, with some sugar stashes, magazines, and a lantern. It's comfortable and cozy and- and starting to drive me crazy.

I've been lying here all morning; since I realized that I have no idea when Malfoy's coming. And there's no way I'll ask him, that will just make me seem desperate. I've changed my outfit twice, just to go back to my original choice. It's ridiculous. I'm getting sick of myself.

Maybe I should tell Mother Malfoy's coming.

Or I can wait a few more minutes. She'll blow up about short notice and how I need to get my make-up done. Sighing, I pull myself out of the cubby and search for her.

I don't have to search long; she's in the living room reading a newspaper.

"Is that the Dailey Prophet?" I ask her.

"Yes," she replies shortly, turning the page.

"And why are you reading it?"

"Not that I need to answer your questions, but an educated woman is a successful woman." Excuse me, but since _when_ did this mindset come along?

"What happened to, 'Women don't need university because their place is in the house'?" I ask. She turns another page.

"Women don't need university to be kept up to date on current events. All you need to know are the basics in order to become successful."

"How are women successful if they're housewives?"

"A woman with just a pretty face and good blood will get pretty far, but a woman who is cunning and can actually converse with her husband will get to the top."

"Since when do you and Dad talk?" Lucinda freezes, staring at the page she was about to turn. Flaring her nostrils ever so slightly, she flips to the next page and returns to normal.

"We were arranged by our parents. Talking was unnecessary."

"So why are you reading the papers now?"

"To ensure I'm at the same level as and superior to other powerful wives."

"You mean wives with powerful husbands?" Finally, Mother lowers the Prophet and narrows her eyes at me.

"You'd do well to mind you tongue. Actually, you've just reached your quota of the day." I roll my eyes. Not this again. "Ten words taken out of tomorrow's." She's impossible.

"Actually Mother-"

"Twenty words."

"It's important-"

"Did I not make myself clear?"

"Crystal, except-"

"Are you arguing? Get out. Now."

"Draco Malfoy's visiting today!" Lucinda's eyes snap to my face as she whips up.

"Why didn't you tell me?"

"I did!" She ignores me.

"'Today? When?!"

"I don't know, he never gave a time, but I'm assuming rather soon."

"And you didn't bother checking with me?"

"I thought you'd be pleased he's coming out of his own choice."

"The last time I checked, this is my house, not yours... However, good work. Your quota for tomorrow will be fully reinstated."

"Thank you _so_ much." She ignores my sarcasm.

"I'll tell Darcy to fix you hair and wax your eyebrows. The elves will have to prepare a dinner and-"

"This isn't a fancy get-together, Mother. It's casual, we'll probably be in my room or outside the entire time." She raises her eyebrows.

"And what will you be doing in your room?" Oh Salazar.

"Nothing!"

"Well make sure to do _something_. Whatever will make him speed up the wedding date." I mentally gag.

"Yes, Mother. Of course." I practically run out. "Something" will _never_ happen with Malfoy.

It's been hours. I swear at least two days have passed since I started pacing in my room. Malfoy still hasn't shown up and I'm getting annoyed. The prick probably just blew me off. He never intended to actually show up. I've spent my day being a pathetic little teenaged girl. Looking at the clock on my wall, I realize its only been half an hour since I left Mother in the parlor and went to my room. I walk to my window seat and collapse into the cushions. I'm so tired of men, the arseholes always think they can do whatever they want to women.

I stare out the long pane of glass.

This is the only decent place in the house. Mother took a small fortune from Dad to renovate the manor and make it state-of-the-art, but the house is dark and eerie, all the blinds are usually closed but besides that, there's no life here. It's silent and _dead_. No one ever talks too loud- no one ever really talks. The most common sound is Mother berating either me or the elves. I don't even consider this place my house. But my seat in the window, I could sit here all day and stare out at the gardens. It's a better sight than Lucinda's face, anyhow.

As the sun begins to glare at its peak, my eyes droop. The trees mesh together into one mess of greens and browns. My head falls against the glass and the yellow sun slowly turns to a black pit.

Something rustles near my head. The noise is too loud and annoying. I close my eyes tighter and turn my head to the side. A cool surface meets my cheek. The rustling continues and I try desperately to go back to sleep. Footsteps fall across the floor, not bothering to be quiet. Who dares to be in my room while I sleep? Just go away stupid trolls! But I don't open my mouth because I know as soon as I do, all possibility of sleep will disappear. Then there's shuffling, as if someone's opening a drawer or moving papers. And I can't take it anymore.

"If you're Mother or an elf, get the hell out of my room before I curse your legs off and attach them to your face." I nestle closer to what feels like a window and try to block the sun from my eyes. I'm pleased when the rustling stops and silence settles over my room.

Not two seconds after that thought, a warm chuckle sounds next to my cheek followed by a, "Would your mother do this?" A warm tongue slowly trails up the length of my neck and I yell, springing out of my stoop. My head hits the window frame as my eyes pop open.

"_Malfoy_? What the hell do you think you're doing here?" The blond boy stands before me, smirking with an amused expression.

"Why I do believe you invited me over." What? I look out the window; it's still light- it's still Saturday. I must have taken a nap.

"But- how did you get in? Who let you in?"

Malfoy leans against the wall and stares up at me. "Lucinda let me in." Lucinda? Since when were they on a first-name basis? Again, he smirks. "She said you've been restless and nervous all day. Did you fall asleep waiting for me? I told you not to miss me too much." What did she say?

"Miss you? Likely story. Who would miss mentally stabbing themselves in the eye to avoid listening to you talk?" Malfoy crosses his arms.

"Usually women just distract themselves by looking at my mouth while I talk." Involuntarily, I glance at his full lips. They are a good distraction. Okay, don't go there.

"Wow, your voice is so boring that even looking at _you_ is a better alternative. Impressive."

"Oh I assure you, little girl, what comes out of my mouth is the farthest thing from boring."

"Little girl?" I snort. "Yeah, okay. Well how about you stop creeping around a 'little girl's' bedroom and go back to your dollhouse."

"You think I'm creeping when it was _you_ who invited me to your room?"

"Don't say it like that!" He smiles mischievously.

"Like what?"

"Like... Oh, shove off. Just get out of my house."

"Now, now Parkinson, that's no way to treat a guest. Where's your hospitality?"

"You can take that hospitality and shove it up-" the door opens.

"Pansy, dear, how are you two doing in here?" Mother pokes her head around the door, baring a large smile.

We both turn to her, Malfoy grinning and me glaring. She notices my position and kneads her eyebrows together. "Pansy, why are you standing on those cushions? They were custom made in Italy."

"I can help you down," says Malfoy, turning to me. He raises his arms, as if I'm supposed to fall into them.

"That's alright, I can get down on my own."

"It's a far drop," he counters with a smile.

"It's two feet."

"Pansy! Draco is being such a gentleman, it would be rude to disregard his chivalry."

"Yes, Ms. Parkinson, I insist." Malfoy's smirking supremely now.

"I have my own two feet."

"And I have two arms."

"And you have two seconds to accept his offer," counters Mother. I grimace and bend over, putting my hands on Malfoy's shoulders then trying to hop down. But Malfoy has different plans; he swoops my legs from underneath me as I gasp, falling, and land in his arms.

"See, I got you," says Malfoy with a smirk. He turns to the door, holding me in his arms as I try to push him away.

"Oh how kind of you, Draco. Well, I'll leave you two alone. Behave, Pansy!" With that, Mother shuts the door.

"She doesn't want you to do anything naughty," says Malfoy in a low, sexy voice. Correction, she _wants_ me to do something naughty. Very naughty.

"She has nothing to worry about. Now get off of me."

"I do believe _you_ are on _me_."

"And I do believe I don't care, so you should back away now."

"Oh that's right, you've expressed how distracted you get when I touch you. Especially when I touch you here-" and once again, Malfoy's hand is on my arse.

"You should consider how much you value that hand before I-" Malfoy pulls away his arms and drops me onto the floor. I fall onto my back with a thud and get the wind knocked out of me.

"That- is- the- second time- I've fallen around you!"

"Well get used to it, you'll be falling for me again soon."

"That's definitely not what I meant," I murmur, picking myself up off the floor.

"You'll see," he says, plopping onto my bed and folding his hands behind his head.

"Comfy?"

"It'll do." I'm starting to really hate that grin.

"For what?"

"Why don't you come over here and find out?"

"Why don't you get off my bed before I have to burn it?"

"Or never wash it again and build a shine around it."

"Why did I invite you here again?"

"Because you can't get enough of me."

"Right. That's it." I sit down on the desk next to my bed. "Your charming personality is just so captivating."

"It's all about the Malfoy charm," he says with a wink. I roll my eyes. Malfoy picks up a pillow and props it under his head.

"What are you doing?"

"Using your pillow." He turns his head and sniffs it. Oh no. "Lovely, is that vanilla?" I glance at the nightstand next to him.

"Lavender."

"No it's not."

"Yes it is."

"You're lying." Maybe...

"Or perhaps you're just not as smart as you figure." Malfoy sniffs my pillow. I cringe.

"It's vanilla, but nice try. I almost thought I was wrong but, that's not possible." He readjusts the pillow, shifting the covers even more. My hand twitches.

"Why don't you come sit up here with me?" Malfoy raises an eyebrow.

"If you want to be next to me so badly, come lie on the bed. We'll have _much_ more room." He moves over a foot, completely wrinkling all the blankets and I can't stop myself. I jump off the desk and run to the bed, yanking Malfoy's arm.

"Stop! Stop it!"

"Are you mad?" he replies, trying to pull his arm back.

"Look at what you've done! The bed was so nicely laid out and the pillows fluffed, but you just _had_ to come along and ruin everything! The bed is an absolute mess and you rubbed all your germs over it!" Malfoy pauses and stares at me for a long second while I try to reign in my panic attack. Then he does the worst thing possible; laugh. Laugh like I just told the funniest joke and he'll never be able to laugh again. Malfoy releases my hand to clutch his stomach.

"Okay, alright, that's-that's- it's not funny! Malfoy, you have five seconds to stop laughing! I swear-"

"I can't believe your OCD! That actually exists? Wow that's- that's hilarious. Just golden." Finally he settles down.

"_Ha-ha_. Yes, very funny indeed, now will you get off my bed so I can fix it?"

"Without a please? I think not. I'm a man of strict manners and etiquette."

"Well Mr. Stuck Up Arse, will you _please_ get the hell of my bed before I-" Malfoy grabs my arm again and pulls me down so I fall half on his chest and half on my bed- wrinkling the covers even more. He grabs my waist and pulls me closer to him.

"How about we wrinkle the sheets _together_?" I shove him away, standing up.

"You're impossible." Walking to the nightstand, I open the top drawer and pull out a disinfectant spray. "Hand me my pillow," I order, sticking out my hand expectantly. Malfoy sits up and grabs the pillow.

"You know, this OCD thing can't be healthy. In a way, it's my moral duty to break you of these mind-consuming habits."

"In a way, I don't care if it's Firewhiskey I'm addicted to, give it to me!"

"I think not." Malfoy stands on the bed and flaunts the pillow over me. I spray it with the disinfectant can, but he pulls the pillow away too quickly. "Why don't you use your wand?"

"Because this is quicker. Give me the pillow, Malfoy!" He laughs and backs away, jumping on my bed. I hop up and chase after him but he jumps off and circles the bed. Our positions are switched now. "Are we seriously going to play cat and mouse?"

"As long as I'm the cat!" He fakes right before sprinting left, across the room and out the door. _That bastard_. A second later I'm out the door, winding down the halls after Malfoy. He turns a corner and slides down the railing of the stairs.

"You cheat!" I run down the stairs, trying not to trip over my robes.

"Malfoys don't play fair!" he calls over his shoulder, running through the foyer and into the dining room.

"You dirty little ferret!"

"Women like it dirty!" I roll my eyes as I slip through the closing kitchen door. Malfoy rounds the island where house elves are preparing dinner. Once again, we're chasing each other around the table until he stops at the end. I stop too and eye him carefully. He sees a bowl of tomato soup lying on the table and looks up at me, grinning. Horror strikes me.

"Malfoy, don't you _dare_ try-" Red orange liquid splatters across my face and white shirt. "Oh my god," I say, wiping soup out of my eyes as Malfoy sprints passed, slapping my arse. "I'm going to kill you!" I grab a potato off the table and launch it at him. _I could be a Beater_, I think, pleased as the brown ball smacks Malfoy in the back of the head.

"Ow!" He spins around, clutching his head.

"Yeah, that's right," I say, spraying disinfectant into his face and reaching for the pillow. Malfoy yanks it back, shaking his head, and opens the door. As an elf walks through, Malfoy runs into him and they smack onto the ground.

I grab the pillow and run out the door.

"Sorry, Dop!" I yell to the elf as I bound down the hall, making a left and throwing open the ballroom door. Malfoy's running after me. I slam the door and haul arse to my hideout, pulling up the latch and hopping in, closing the entry just as Malfoy opens the door. There's a pause. He walks around the opposite end of the ballroom.

"You're a bit scrawny, so I doubt you could have ran out the room before I got in. You're around here somewhere, Parkinson." I am _not_ scrawny! I hear rustling as he makes his way across the room- probably checking behind curtains. "There doesn't seem to be many places to hide. I'll find you soon." He still sounds a bit of a ways away, so I pick up my pillow and spray it with the can. Malfoy stops and I can almost imagine him looking around completely

confused. He starts walking the other way. After five steps, I spray the pillow again. Malfoy stops and walks back to my area. "Clever little girl, you probably think you're so funny right now." Well, yes. Absolutely.

Finally, I'm one-upping Draco Malfoy. He checks behind some curtains a few windows away from me. "I'll have you know Malfoys don't chase after _anyone_." Apparently, some do. "Alright little girl, stop playing hide and seek already." Why does he keep calling me little girl?! "Come on Parks, stop being a little tease." I snort loudly then clamp my hands over my face. Oh shit. Malfoy pauses again, then walks slowly closer. "Thought that was funny, did you? Want to hear some pick up lines?" Oh god. "Hey there beautiful, I'm a Seeker, and I think I just found my golden snitch." I smile; that was just horrid. "How about; you know Platform 9 3/4? I have something that's the exact same size."

"HAH!" My hands clamp over my mouth again. I hear Malfoy pivot, like he's searching for the source of the outburst.

"Well, well, well, someone can't resist my charm," he says, walking closer to my hideout. "You'll love this: if you were a Dementor, I'd kill ten people just to get your kiss." This is so ridiculous, but a smile breaks out nonetheless. "Hey baby, can I get my basilisk into your Chamber of Secrets? I also have: Want to hop on my broomstick tonight? You'll become the new Moaning Myrtle." I have to stuff my face into the cushion to stop from cracking up. "Hey Gryffinwhore, can I Slyther-into your bed?" Malfoy is getting closer but I can't help the quick laugh that escapes my mouth. I actually shove a pillow in between my teeth- germs be damned. He's barely a foot away. "Go to the Shrieking Shack with me; you'll make some shrieking of your own." My back shakes with silent laughter. Suddenly, the curtain above me rips open. I scoot backwards quickly, pressing against the wall of cushions. Malfoy's footsteps shuffle above me. "Huh," he sys, turning away. "That was the last curtain, Parkinson. Where could you possibly-" he pauses. "Oh. _Ohhh_. Aren't you just brilliant?" Malfoy turns back around and there's a thud above me, like he dropped to his knees. "Hello there," he says, inches away from my head. I can almost feel his smirk. Damn. "Hey Pansy?" Malfoy whispers. "Hagrid isn't the only giant around here- if you know what I mean." And that's it. I explode with laughter, sniggering uncontrollably and I can't breath. The latch opens up and I try to pull myself out before Malfoy gets me, but it's too late; his arm's around my waist and pulling me back. I try to crawl away, but my laughter takes away all concentration. "Got you."

"Ah! No! Malfoy!" I squeal, still trying to run away.

"Oh no, no. Not so fast Parks."

"Malfoy! Let- go- before- I-" I try to catch my breath, but a whole new rack of laughter takes over. Even Malfoy starts to grin.

"Before you what? Hurt me? Threaten me? Curse me to the moon?"

"Before I- before I- before I pee!" I scream, laughing so hard I feel like I'm about to pee.

"Before you... pee?" Malfoy laughs. "Are you two? Do you need a diaper?" I lean back, grabbing the disinfectant can and before I even acknowledge what I'm doing, I spray Malfoy in the crotch.

"No, but apparently _someone_ does!" I'm doubled over, completely out of control.

"Did you just- oh you're going to pay for that." Malfoy attacks me- he's tickling my sides and neck and stomach and I can't even make out a coherent sentence. I'm laughing so hard I'm out of breath and gasping. "Do you regret it yet? How about now?"

"Never!" I squeal, trying to shield my body. I'm caught between complete pain and a ticklish feeling- it's unbearable.

"We'll see."

"Mal-foy-stop-I... can't... Breath!"

"Good." He leans over and nips my neck. I squeal again.

"Hehe Draco, _STOP!_"

"Pansy Priscilla Parkinson!" And just like that, all laughter disappears from my mouth and I'm brought back to reality. I jolt upright and out of Malfoy's arms. Turning to face the door, I straighten my shirt and suck in a breath.

"Hello, Mother." Malfoy mouths 'Did you giggle' before turning to the door.

"What on Earth are you doing? You're running around like a madman! Screaming and completely out of control. The kitchen is a mess and chairs are strewn everywhere!"

"Mrs. Parkinson, please allow me to apologize; that was solely my fault-" began Malfoy. Mother turns to him quickly with a huge smile and all anger gone.

"Oh Draco, you are such a gentleman! Trying to take wraps for my careless daughter. I assure you she was raised better than this and she's only making such an idiot of herself because she's so nervous around you! This is completely uncharacteristic of her."

"Oh I'm sure," replies Malfoy. He looks serious, but he's definitely mocking her. Malfoy may not be serious at all, but I'm completely ashamed. I don't know about the whole nervous around Malfoy thing- but the rest is true. I have way too much dignity and respect to go galloping around my house chasing some boy like a six year old. And giggling- I can't even bring myself to admit I did that. I can't believe I was laughing and squirming about like a suffocating fish on the floor! I want to lower my head and hide so badly, but I pull myself upright an try to maintain a shred of dignity.

"Pansy, you _will_' behave around our guest for the remainder of the day. I'll deal with you afterwards."

"Yes ma'am," I say respectfully, without an ounce of sarcasm. She walks out and I'm left with a smirking Malfoy and a hurt pride.

"Should I go? I don't want to keep making you nervous," he says innocently. I throw the disinfectant can into my hideout and shut the latch.

"Yes you should go," I reply emotionless, walking to the doors.

"Oh, is the little girl embarrassed that she got scolded?"

"Embarrassed that she was acting stupid, embarrassed her mother realized it before she did, and embarrassed to be around _you_."

"Ouch. Most women would give their left leg to be within a mile of me." I ignore him and just push through the doors, walking down the hall to the staircase. Malfoy Apparates to the top of the stairs and waits impatiently. What a baby.

"Was it too difficult to walk ten steps?" He shrugs.

"If I'm able to Apparate, then I will."

"I could Apparate if I wanted to."

"Without getting a headache or feeling nauseous?" I ignore him again. "It's okay, all amateurs experience those symptoms." I walk past him and head to my room.

My bed is still a mess.

"Ugh." I straighten it before collapsing onto the duvet. Malfoy plops next to me.

"It's alright, I know what you're upset about."

"Oh do you?"

"You're mad that you can't reign in those raging hormones whenever you're around me."

"How did you know?"

"Experience. But it's okay, you don't have to contain those urges anymore," Malfoy says as he leans over me, putting a hand on the bed next to either side of my face. I want to punch that self-absorbed smirk.

"Oh, well _that's_ a relief," I say, pushing him off and sitting up.

"Are you still embarrassed?"

"Depends on what you're talking about."

"I don't know where to start- that haircut, your robes, acting like an idiot around me-"

"Definitely nothing to be embarrassed about there." I move back to my perch on the desk, sitting across from Malfoy.

"Then there's the other thing. Before Lucinda came in you-"

"There's nothing to discuss there." Salazar, I can_not_ believe what came out of my mouth. I refuse to believe that actually happened.

"Oh but there is."

"Oh but there isn't."

"You giggled."

"That's ridiculous."

"Oh you definitely-"

"Shut up."

"I can't believe you-"

"Malfoy, don't you dare repeat that."

"You giggled! I feel stupid for just _saying_ the word."

"Shove off, I didn't giggle. I've never giggled in my life."

"First time for everything."

"Not for me."

"You giggled."

"Dammit Malfoy! Parkinsons don't giggle."

"Apparently you do."

"Apparently you don't know when to give up!"

"Apparently you don't know when to give in."

"You're impossible!" I say in exasperation, leaning against the wall and crossing my arms. Malfoy smirks.

"So you've said, multiple times actually."

"And it's been true every time."

"Will it be impossible to get you to admit that you giggled?"

"I'll take it to my grave."

"Take what to your grave?" asks Malfoy, raising an eyebrow.

"That I..." I trail off, realizing what he just did. Malfoy smirks. "I hate you."

"Don't be upset, no one can challenge me and succeed."

"I can take you on any day!" I scoff.

"Oh? Starting when? Tomorrow?"

"You're i-" I stop.

"Impossible, irresistible, or impressive?"

"Incredibly aggravating."

"Ouch. Well, if you're going to be feisty-"

"If you're going to be _annoying_-"

"Hey," says Malfoy, getting off the bed and walking to me. He rests his hands on either side of my hips and leans in close. "Feisty is sexy." His voice drops to that sexy, low whisper and I'm absorbed in his eyes.

But I have to pull myself out, I can't give in. Not because I don't want to get attached or become one of his "been there done that" girls. It's something much more important than that. All of Malfoy's sarcasm, snark, arguments, and comebacks have made a personalized dent in my ego. I used to think that I wanted to marry a guy who I could have an intelligent conversation with. But since meeting Malfoy, all I want is a stupid pretty boy who won't understand any of my insults and won't debate with me. I'm not giving in to Draco Malfoy because there's no way I'm acknowledging that he's my equal. I put a hand to his chest and push him back.

"Too bad annoying isn't sexy," I counter.

"Too bad I'm _way_ too sexy."

"You keep telling yourself that."

"And you keep lying to yourself like that." I glare at Malfoy's quick comeback.

"How long are you going to play off my words?"

"I thought you were playing off of mine."

"Yet another one of your delusions."

"Parkinson, you haven't been playing very nice lately. I think your communication skills need work."

"_I_' haven't been playing nice?" He ignores me.

"I think it would be best if you stopped talking, just until you get your shite together." I almost start laughing again.

"You mean, like a quota?" Malfoy's eyes light up.

"Exactly! A quota on words! Does that even exist?" I let out a short laugh, not exactly one of humor.

"Please, talk in a slightly higher pitched voice, you sound like my mother."

"That's not a compliment. And I'm being serious."

"So am I. You're late on the discovery, Mother dear's been implementing a thousand-word quota for me everyday." Malfoy stares at me for a second.

"She does not."

"Oh I promise you, she does."

"We'll that's..." Stupid? Annoying? Obnoxious? Who-does-she-think-she-is-ish? "Bloody brilliant!"... Or that. "I've always wondered how I could possibly manage to handle children. It's expected of me to continue the Malfoy lineage but kids are simply too _annoying_. They scream and whine and complain; Lucinda's method seems quite effective. Clever too"

"I'm so glad you approve." Malfoy laughs.

"Well, it can't be that great for you."

"Not particularly, it mostly works the opposite of effective and makes me talk even more."

"That doesn't surprise me."

"Mainly, her quota just lands me in trouble."

"You don't seem to have an issue with authority." I snort.

"Mother would have a very long and interesting reply to that statement."

"I mean, I'm sure you have many problems with authority, you just don't have any issues _arguing_ with them."

"I would agree with that."

"So why do you never argue with Lucinda?"

"Again, she would have an interesting reply to that."

"When I'm interested in her opinion, I'll let Lucinda know."

"We do argue, and quite frequently at that," I reply. Malfoy sits on the edge of my bed.

"So why do you act like you respect her?"

"Why do you ask unnecessary questions?"

"Why do avoid satisfying my curiosity?" I roll my eyes.

"Since I'm so selfless and considerate... I genuinely respect Lucinda."

"Suggests the first-name basis," comments Malfoy.

"I said that I respect her, not care about her from a mother-daughter lovey-dovey perspective."

"No lovey-dovey, understood," Malfoy says, pretending to "x" out a check list. "How do you respect that woman? I can't imagine living with her, let alone talking to her for more than thirty seconds."

"Because she taught me everything I know- from being a manipulative bitch to an elegant woman. Lucinda's taught me ambition, to do whatever it takes to reach my goal, and to build people up as well as tear them down, whenever necessary. She's taught me about social etiquette, the politics of society, and how to work within it all to climb to the top. My mother is a manipulative, selfish, cunning, lying, backstabbing, brutally honest bitch and I respect her for that. I'm her mirror image; I owe everything I am to her." We're kind of silent for a minute. I've never needed to explain my opinions about my mother before- its weird.

"There's one main difference between your mother and you," says Malfoy seriously. I'm pulled out of my thoughts.

"And that is?"

"You're much better at manipulating people than Lucinda is."

"How would you know?" I ask defensively. Malfoy shouldn't be able to _tell_ when I'm manipulating people, that obviously means I'm not doing a good job at discretion.

"Does Lucinda honestly believe that my family and I don't know how fake she is? She can pretend to be the most loyal housewife and clueless, bubbly woman, but her façade is obvious."

"How did your family guess that?" The intense look on Malfoy's face quickly vanishes and he leans back, a smug look on his face.

"My parents didn't guess, I did. But I suspect they don't trust her either, since they don't trust anyone. And I didn't know anything for a fact, but now I do." He smirks and I groan. Once again, Malfoy's tricked me into answering a question I didn't want to. "I'll take that as an 'Oh Draco, you're so smart! I can't get enough of you!'"

"You do that." I glare.

"Does she really think that by sucking up to my parents and acting like our doormat will put a wedding in place by tomorrow?" I take a second to respond.

"She hopes it will work. She's counting on it, considering my inability to stay with a guy for many than a few days."

"Well, we're reaching the 'few days' mark pretty soon. We'll see just how boring you can get." I roll my eyes.

"_I'm_ not the one who's boring. Every guy wants to suck up to me, pretend he's the king of the world, shower me with complements until I gag, and drone on and on about his dull self and infinitely more dull future."

"_Every_ guy?" Malfoy asks with a smirk. I return it with one of my own.

"_Almost_ every guy. One in particular seems to be worse than the others." Before Malfoy responds, I remember something he said. "Wait, how am I more manipulative than my mother?" Malfoy laughs.

"Maybe I overestimated you, I assumed you would have realized that I figured out your little plan." Come again?

"What are you talking about?"

"The game you play, Parkinson. What else would I be addressing?"

"Apparently not your assassination I've been planning for the last week." Malfoy rolls his eyes. What the hell is he getting at?

"Cute, Parkinson. But that's what you're aiming for, isn't it?"

"Why don't you stop beating around the bush and just tell me this brilliant realization you've made?"

"I'm at the top of Pureblood society, I'm the best there is. My family is better than yours so naturally, you want to marry into mine."

"Hold up a second-"

"There's competition, however, so you'll have to fight your way up the ladder. But the perfect housewife routine is getting old, isn't it? So you came up with your brilliant plan."

"Oh and I just can't wait to hear it."

"You decided to be a tease instead, didn't you? First you'll be hot, then cold, then hot again."

"Wow, you're describing yourself in a nutshell."

"Point and case. You girls are all the same, trying to lure me in with long legs and make-up. But that's not the problem, I'm more than okay with being lured in, but then you want to keep me. You want me to stay yours forever. Then you're all disappointed when it only lasts a week. Listen, Parks, I can't be caught. _Ever_. Even if we marry, I'll still be discreetly available. Stop with the sass and realize that I'll bite the bait but won't get reeled in."

"That was an impressive metaphor. Did Mommy help you write that?" I condescend. My anger has reached new extremes.

"Yes, and it only took us three days."

"You must be so proud."

"Are you proud of the failure of your plan?"

"Malfoy you are so arrogant and self-absorbed-"

"You say that like it's a bad thing," he smirks.

"Impossible," I groan, throwing my hands up and banging the back of my head against the wall.

"Careful there, you don't have many more brain cells left to kill."

"Maybe I'll start using yours then."

"Go ahead, it will take you a while."

"You clearly don't understand something and we should clear it up right now."

"Hold on while I get my notes."

"One: stop referring to me as 'all you girls'. It's insulting and if you're too stupid to see that there's not a single girl in the world that even _compares_ to me, then joke's on you. Two: There is no plan. I haven't spent months at my desk planning out ways to 'catch Draco Malfoy and reel him'. I'm not a pathetic teenager obsessed over a boy. I'm not obsessed over social status, your family's money, and sure as hell not obsessed over _you_. Three: I don't _want_ to catch you. Come and go whenever you please, sleep with whomever you want; go for it. I don't plan to stay faithful to any man, let alone my husband. Don't worry about me being disappointed if this ends in a week- I'll be disappointed if this _lasts_ a week. So there you go." I cross my arms and huff loudly. I haven't been this angry in a while. I haven't felt any of these feelings in a while- or at all. It makes me feel... electrified, real, alive.

"What's this?" Malfoy asks.

"What's what?"

"You said, 'Don't worry about me being disappointed if this only lasts a week'. What's 'this'? Are you implying that there's something between us?"

"You're twisting my words, Malfoy."

"So why don't you clarify them, Parkinson?"

"Fine. There will _never_ be anything between us. Does that work? Your arrogance surpasses Zabini's. And before you ask; _yes_, that's a bad thing. You're impossible, stubborn, irritating, you aggravate me to no end, and oh! Did I mention impossible?"

"Only once or twice," Malfoy says with an amused smile. It just infuriates me even more.

"Also, I just don't feel like being disappointed by a lousy snog."

"All newbies get concerned about their first time." I laugh loudly at that.

"If reputation serves, I'm hardly a newbie." Multiple times I've been figured as the female version of Malfoy.

"Oh yes, I've heard the most interesting rumors. Especially from your good friend Zabini."

"Okay, that was _one_ night! And we were both way too drunk to remember any details. He probably made up half the story."

"I'm sure that's it." I don't know why Malfoy seems so amused by this.

"Anyhow, are we agreed?"

"Agreed on what?" he asks coyly.

"On the fact that there is no 'plan'. I'm not interested in you, I don't want you, and I definitely wouldn't be disappointed if you walked out this door right now." Malfoy smirks.

"Agreed- for now."

"I suppose that will have to do." We're silent for a moment. I prop my leg on the desk and rest my chin on it. Malfoy gets up suddenly and walks to me. I go still as he stands pressed against my leg. He puts a hand on my knee and leans forward, reaching out a hand. My breath quickens and I'm once again absorbed in those stormy grey eyes.

Oh my god.

He's moving closer and closer, until his hand presses against the wall behind me and his lips press against my cheek, tickling my ear. My leg almost give out.

"You never explained why."

"Why what?" I ask breathily. Why I don't want to give in to him? It had to do with pride or ego or something like that... I honestly can't remember how old I am at the moment.

"Why-" Malfoy leans back and looks at my dazed face. He smirks. "Why you prefer taking still pictures." He taps the wall behind me.

"What the hell does that-" I turn around. Malfoy's pointing to my wall of pictures. That's... that's what he was doing? Was he just messing with me? Was he just trying to get a rise out of me? "What do my pictures have to do with anything?"

"Oh I apologize, do you want to get back to when we-"

"No! Pictures are good. Pictures are very good. There's nothing to get back to."

"And you don't want to get disappointed anyway, right?"

"Of course." Did I really say that I'd be disappointed? Pansy, how stupid are you? I turn around and look at the pictures hung across the wall. "So, you want to know about these babies?"

"Mhmm," I hear behind me. I glance over my shoulder- Malfoy's staring avidly at my neck. Do I have a blemish there or something?

"Are you listening?" His eyes turn to mine.

"Definitely. Why wouldn't I want to talk about babies with you?" I roll my eyes and turn back to the wall. Malfoy points to a picture, his arm is right behind me and I can smell his crisp, clean scent. _Focus_. "What's the significance of this one?" The picture's of an ocean with the sun setting and the sky turning from purple to dark blue.

"I was in Jamaica. The beach had a great view."

"What about this one." I turn my attention. A couple was sitting on a bench holding hands, they looked so in love.

"This was in Paris. The couple was rather amorous."

"You stalk people with a camera?"

"I don't _stalk_ them! I just take a picture and leave."

"Hm. You think being in love is cute?"

"Sure. They really loved each other, as you can see. They're naive and stupid to think it's going to last, but cute nonetheless. Ignorance is bliss and all that."

"Fair enough. And this?" I turn my attention again.

"That's just food, Malfoy. It's pizza in Italy."

"Interesting." He didn't seem that interested. "Is this your camera?" I look at the object he's holding.

"Yeah, it's pretty old though. I haven't been 'behaved' enough to receive a new one."

"Why do you like pictures that don't move? There's no fun in that." I look back at my hundreds of pictures.

"They aren't about cool movements. I like still photos because more meaning's shown in the emotion of one pose than there is in an entire movement."

"Yeah? Is that so?"

"Yes it is-" I stop as Malfoy's lips press against the base of my neck. I catch myself. "Are you paying any attention."

"Of course," he says, kissing my shoulder again then planting a kiss on my neck. He puts a hand on my waist and pulls my back against his chest. "Smile pretty," Malfoy says before resting his chin on my shoulder, holding up my camera. He snaps a picture of him kissing my neck.

"You definitely seem like you're paying attention," I say. I have to remember to throw away that picture.

"Oh I am."

"Then what did I say?"

"More meaning shown in one pose than in a movement." Malfoy kisses up my neck.

"Good job," I say, slightly breathless but trying to keep control.

"I happen to disagree though."

"Of course you do." He smirks against my neck.

"I think that- movements are better- because many emotions and things can be shown- simultaneously," explains Malfoy in between kisses. His other hand comes around to my knee and runs up and down my leg. Oh yes, I'm definitely feeling multiple emotions. Mainly one. With each kiss and stroke of Malfoy's hand, my stomach flutters.

"I suppose I can see your point," I acquiesce.

"Do you?"

"It's a bit far-fetched, but I can imagine it." Malfoy's other hand goes underneath my shirt and spreads across my stomach. I suck in a breath.

"I don't think it's that far-fetched," he says at the nape of my neck. My resolve is quickly diminishing

"Maybe it's just you." I'm almost yelling at _myself_ for being so stubborn.

"Is that so?" he asks. I'm about to respond before his tongue sweeps over my neck. My pulse increases about five-hundred percent. "I would think that others agree."

"How much do you pay them?" he smirks into my skin.

"Once again, it's not about how _much_ you pay them, it's about what you pay them _with_." I wonder how that tongue would feel with mine- _stop it! Respond, Pansy.'_But I can't remember what he said. Malfoy's tongue sweeps across my neck, followed by a kiss. His left hand rests on my waist and the other continues feeling up my leg. I don't know how I'm resisting. "Parks, you're such a stubborn little girl." Parkinson, you're such a _stupid_ little girl. Stop resisting. Malfoy nips my neck lightly and I gasp. More butterflies erupt in my stomach. My neck heats up. Malfoy licks over the bite mark then kisses it- and I'm completely done.

Spinning away from the wall, I wrap my legs around his waist, pulling Malfoy roughly by the collar so he meets my mouth. He doesn't get any notice when I dart my tongue into his mouth and pull him closer to me. Malfoy's tongue meets mine lightly, teasing. Before I bite off his tongue, he pulls away, smirking.

"I better stop, you don't want to be disappointed, right?"

"Do shut up." I pull on his collar, tugging him back to my mouth. This time he knows better and doesn't hold back. Malfoy's hands grab my legs and wrap them around his waist. He leans me back until I'm lying on the desk and I drag him on top of me. His hands snake up my shirt again and continue exploring while our tongues do the same. Damn he tastes amazing and while I should be disgusted that I'm probably second-hand making out with at least half the girls in my dorm, Malfoy's the best snogger I've ever known and my mouth can't get enough of these warm lips and his sweet tongue. I've made out with more guys than I can count using both hands and not a single one has gotten a reaction out of me like Malfoy has. I feel alive, free, and sexy. Gripping Malfoy's neck, I pull him closer and closer and groan as his fingers make circles on my stomach. His tongue's pace quickens in response and I reach to take his shirt off when sharp knocks sound on the door. Suddenly, Malfoy's pulling us up and I'm thrown- yet again- on my arse. Just as the door opens up, Malfoy sits across from me, leaning against the bed, and fiddles with my camera. Dad steps through the doorway as Malfoy says, "This is an interesting camera. You should let me keep it Pansy." Malfoy acts completely calm as Dad walks in, like his tongue wasn't just shoved down my throat fifteen seconds ago. A moment later and I have regained my breathing.

"Good luck with that, _Draco_."

"Yeah, Pans takes that thing everywhere, she's in love with it. You'll have to pry that camera from her dead body," says Dad, standing next to me. I discreetly slide an inch away. I hate it when he pretends to know me so well. Excuse me, _where_ have you been for the past year? Or the past five? He knows nothing. But I put on the best fake smile I can manage.

"Even then it will be rather difficult."

"I remember when we first got you a camera. You thought it was the worst present ever. Do you remember, Pans?" Of course I do. It was one of the only decent things my parents agreed to give me.

"Vaguely."

"But after your first day, you were obsessed with it- never let it go, did this girl. One time you lost it and threw a complete fit; almost tore the house apart looking for it. When you finally found it the smile on your face could have lit up an entire-"

"Thanks, Father, but I don't think Malfoy's interested in my boring childhood stories. He's leaving anyways and I don't want to keep him late." I try to smile respectfully at Dad, but my eyes can't quite meet his. There's a bit of sadness in his and it's pathetic. Malfoy raises an eyebrow in my peripheral vision. _Sorry, but you're my excuse for not going down Memory Lane._

"Of course. How's your day been, Draco?" asks Dad, sounding conversational.

"Fairly decent, nothing too interesting to report," Malfoy responds nonchalantly.

"Oh I'll bet," responds Dad with an amused glint in his eyes. "Well, I hope Pansy hasn't been too boring."

"A little rough in the social skills, but she's getting around." He better mean I'm getting better at social skills, and not "getting around" like I'm a slut.

"So I hear," Dad starts walking back to the door. "And you're still here so you mustn't be that boring yourself. I think that's a first, Pansy."

"And Malfoy really has to go, Dad, so... bye."

"Oh I understand, you need a moment to say your goodbyes."

"Yes we'll need a private moment-" Malfoy says as I say, "No! I'll be down in a minute."

Dad laughs. "Don't worry kids, take your time. And behave!"

"Just like we have been all day," I add as Dad walks through the doorway.

"Uh-huh. Nice try with the camera by the way, Draco." Malfoy shrugs.

"It was a last second plan."

"Creative. Bye kids." Dad closes the door and I wait until his footsteps are out of earshot before collapsing onto the floor.

"That was terrible." Malfoy comes over and grabs my hands, pinning them above my head before trailing kisses up my neck.

"Now I _know_ you can't be referring to me." I laugh.

"You weren't half bad."

"Stop lying to yourself," says Malfoy into my hair.

"Okay fine, you were _completely_ bad. Better?" Malfoy sits up and pokes my side. I squirm and shove his hand away. His left hand comes around and tries to tickle my other side. I push that away too. "No, Malfoy. I'm not laughing again, don't even try."

"Fine, I don't want you to laugh. Just giggle."

"That's the same thing."

"No it's not, one's funner than the other."

"Funner isn't a word."

"Are you really going to give me a grammar lesson after I just gave you the best snog of your life?"

"You're opinion's a bit biased."

"But one hundred percent correct all the same."

"Whatever you say."

"Don't deny it, just join the fanclub."

"Hah! That club filled it's max when Acentra Pent joined."

"I do believe that was the first girl I kissed at Hogwarts."

"Exactly," I say, borrowing his smirk. Malfoy glares down at me.

"Clever girl."

"I try."

"I can't believe I remember Acentra, I tried so hard to forget about her."

"Did she break your heart?" Malfoy snorts.

"More like I broke hers. She stalked me for all of first year. I lost count of how many times she followed me into Potions crying her eyes out, begging me to take her back."

"You must have reveled in the attention."

"I did, but now it just seems creepy. I don't know how I could have been pleased that I had a stalker. But not to worry, Parks, the fanclub is forever open to more women." I roll my eyes.

"That's wonderful. You'd have a better shot at making me giggle than making me join the 'I love Draco Malfoy club."

"I _will_ make you giggle."

"No, you won't. It's pathetic, annoying, girly, stupid, and _definitely_ will not be happening again. I had a lapse in control and that's all." Malfoy smirks down at me.

"I've seen your lapse in control, and that was _not_ it."

"Oh Malfoy," I say seductively. "You haven't even come _close_ to seeing me lose control. And you couldn't handle it." His eyebrow raises.

"Why Ms. Parkinson, is that a challenge?" he asks before leaning over me and joining our mouths again.

We talked for a bit, Malfoy snuck in some sly kisses, then we talked for a while more. Finally, I was yawning and my eyes were drooping.

As I yawn for the hundredth time, Malfoy laughs and stands up.

"I can't even understand you anymore," he says.

"Well it's not my fault you're so boring." Malfoy leans down and picks me up, throwing me over his shoulder. I swat at his back. "Malfoy!" He throws me roughly onto my bed and I'm too tired to even care that the sheets are rumpled. "If you expect to sleep with me tonight, you're in for a disappointment. I can't even keep my eyes open."

"That's alright, I only care about your body," he teases.

"Then go ahead, I'm all yours," I say with a yawn, snuggling into my comfy duvet.

"I would, but there's a chance Mother will wonder where I am." I yawn again.

"Gosh darn those mothers, always gotta be such prick-blockers." Malfoy pauses before cracking up. I'll probably regret that in the morning. Or is it morning now? "What time is it, Malfoy?"

"About three."

"In the morning?"

"What other time would it be, stupid? Does it seem like day to you?"

"A volcano could erupt and I wouldn't notice right now."

"The Apocalypse could occur and you wouldn't notice."

"You're right."

"And you must definitely be out of it to agree with me that quickly." I laugh. I feel Malfoy walk away. "Oh and Parks?"

"Hmm?"

"You might want to cover up your neck before you see your parents tomorrow." He sniggers like he said something so funny. Whatever, I want to sleep. "Especially if you're going to see your father. Use some make-up or something." Make-up? What the- I spring up and gasp, fully awake now.

"You did not!" I run to my vanity mirror and look at my neck. "You arrogant arse!" Malfoy's laughing hysterically now as I stare agape at my neck. Big, dark, ugly, purple bruises wind their way along my neck.

"Don't worry, it's sexy," says Malfoy as he walks behind me and kisses one of the hickeys, biting it and making it even worse. I spin around and push him aggressively.

"Stop it! I can't believe you did this! Oh my god."

"I'm sure there's a spell for it."

"You better hope so." I turn to Malfoy, crossing my arms angrily and glaring at him. He leans in and kisses me deeply. A lot of my anger quickly subsides and a new feeling arises, which was probably his plan. Malfoy's fingers dart out and tickle my sides. I bat his hands away.

Laughing, Malfoy takes a step back. "Consider these a present from me," he says, pointing to one of my many hickies. I roll my eyes.

"Only you would consider bruises a gift."

"Most girls like it rough," he replies with a wicked smile.

"Oh thank you for that knowledge, now I'll have some disturbing images stuck in my head."

"We could just make some disturbing images of our own," he offers.

"As wonderful as that sounds, I'm going to bed," and before Malfoy has a chance to make a dirty joke out if that I add, "And you aren't coming."

"Well I usually let ladies do that first." I roll my eyes and walk to my bed.

"How considerate of you."

"It really is. Goodnight Parks, it's a shame you have to fill that huge bed all by yourself."

"I'm sure I can handle it. Bye." Malfoy smirks.

"I would say try not to miss me too much, but that's near impossible. So bye Parks; just try to handle a little while without me." With that, he winks and Disapparates.

I shake my head and climb into bed, but something feels off. I fluff my pillows and organize my nightstand, but something still doesn't feel right, something's missing.

And suddenly, I realize all the laughing is gone. The light in my room's disappeared and it seems colder and gloomier than when Malfoy was here. For the first time I can remember, this place felt alive, _I_ felt alive. Malfoy brought something with him that brightened up these halls a bit. Or maybe it was just him. Either way, I'm left in a lifeless, empty house. Now that I've realized this-

I'm lonelier than ever.

* * *

**THE END!**

**Haha not exactly, I just don't know how long it will be until my next chapter. I only have this week to update, if not, I have to do it in two months. I'm going to CAMP and I won't have any Internet connection. If I don't talk to you for a few months, then THANKS GUYS! Hope you enjoyed this, I'll miss you and this story. Hopefully I'll still have motivation to continue when I come back, IF NOT, thanks for reading this thus far. BYE! **


	7. Surprise, Surprise

**Back from the dead! Haha more like summer camp. Sorry the story's short, I just had to get something posted on here. Hope you enjoy and thanks for sticking with me! **

**Ann: Thanks for the review and glad you like the story!**

**Beatruheart: Hope you weren't too sad! And thanks for Favoriting!**

**GingerHannah: Thanks for the reviewing my other stories too!**

**Princesadeplata: Sorry I didn't update that week. :/ But thanks for reviewing you're so awesome!**

**Crazy's What I Aim For: I admit, it's the sexy Draco eyebrow wiggle that got me to update. ;)**

**Guest: I'm glad you like Draco and Pansy's interactions!**

**SiriusMarleneXWolverineRogue: Sorry for the suspense, I like to keep it fresh. ;) Hope you're still sticking to the story, sorry it took so long!**

* * *

_**~Surprise, Surprise~**_

It's been two weeks since Malfoy came over and... observed my pictures. We've been rendezvousing between our houses every few days since then to... learn more about each other. Last week I got a nice view of the Malfoy Manor... and Malfoy without a shirt.

A shame we didn't meet the first day of summer; a lot of bored hours could have been spent doing some other worthwhile activities.

Draco. Malfoy. Is. The. _Best_. Snogger at Hogwarts.

Maybe in the world.

I don't know, haven't gotten to everyone yet, but I've snogged every guy with Pureblood status and good looks that Hogwarts has to offer, and Malfoy is definitely at the top.

Not that he needs to know that.

There's nothing emotional about what we have; it's all physical. And I've never been more satisfied.

Walking out of my room, I throw on a light shawl. I almost make it out the front door before a voice stops me.

"Don't even think about it, go right back up to your room," says Mother from behind me. I groan inwardly and wheel around. She's sitting on a dark sofa in the living room, reading her new best friend: the Daily Prophet.

"I'm going out," I say forcefully, turning to leave.

"Oh are you now?" asks Mother, putting down her paper and turning to me.

"Yes."

"And where are you going, might I ask?"

"To Hogsmeade." There's no way she can stop me. I've been cooped up in the house for months, only being allowed to leave if I'm seeing Malfoy. Well, I'm still meeting Malfoy, just not at the manor.

Mother laughs.

"That's golden! And who gave you permission?" She's definitely not taking me seriously.

"Why must I have permission to leave the house?"

"Because you will stay in your room unless you have good reason not to."

"You're acting like I'm being punished! What have I done?"

"Breath," she says matter of factly.

"I'm too overwhelmed with warm, fuzzy feelings to say 'I love you too'."

"That's quite alright, dear. Just go to your room and no more words need be said."

"As great as that sounds, I'm leaving now." This time I pull the door all the way open.

"Pansy- enough joking, get back here." She's mad now.

Too bad I don't care.

"I'll be back in a few hours," I call back.

"You'll be back when I tell you to be." That's better than nothing I guess.

"Okay... when?"

"Now."

"Ugh! Why can't I go out? I see no reason as to how it's an inconvenience to you."

"You know, as a child, my parents put me in the attic and made me recite poetry verses on how to be a good house witch."

"Oh sorry, I didn't bring material for Sob Story Sunday."

"I'm being rather fair to you, all I'm asking is for you to find a husband of good status."

"I'm flowing with the sense of gratitude," I say, rolling my eyes.

"Why should _you_ get to have a good life when mine was the opposite?" She stands up abruptly and storms across the room until we're inches apart. Her anger seeps from her skin and boils over me. "I listened to my parents, I was seen and not heard, I smiled and dressed nicely for guests, I was charming and kind, I memorized books on social etiquette and manners, I did _everything_ I was told. And you? All you do is complain, whine, argue, back-talk, and sass. You've done _nothing_ to deserve a free life. You're worthless and incompetent. Accept it." I've never seen her face so red, her anger surprises me. I don't know what's brought on the change but _she's_ the worthless bitch who isn't worth half a galleon.

"How about _you_ accept that you're jealous because I am _everything_ you _ever_ wanted to be and better." I storm out the door and make it down the stairs before my knees give out. _What the hell?_ Trying to stand, I realize I can't move. I'm lifted off the ground and spun around. Lucinda's face is blotched as she holds her wand steady. She's livid and wild and I've never seen her look anything besides perfect, but in that moment, she was hideous. I'm caught between fear and hatred. She tries to say something but can't even make a coherent sentence. Instead, she thrusts her wand forward and I'm launched across the lawn, hurtling past trees and blurry shapes. I tuck my head and knees in as my back slams against the ground. The blow steals all my air. My body skids across the field until it slows down and I land on my side. I'm heaving in air, completely unable to move. I look up, but Lucinda's gone. Then I hear a 'smack' and she's right in front of my face, bending down. She's considerably calmer, now that I'm laying I the middle of the estate.

"Stupid little girl," she says in a deadly, sadistic whisper. "Don't ever test me again." Then she Disapparates, leaving me broken on the cold grass. Extremely slowly, I lift myself up.

"Ah!" I yell. _Ribs. My ribs_, I gasp for air. My right ribs are definitely broken. I try to clutch my side, but my left arm isn't responding. It looks off. I don't notice it immediately, then I realize from my elbow down, it's sticking out the wrong direction. "Oh god, oh god." I collapse back onto the ground. My ribs scream in agony. _Okay Pansy, just- just breath and- just breath and calm down. You need to think and- "O_h bloody fucking God!" A white piece of bone is sticking out of my elbow. I scream. I scream and nearly black out. _No, no. Come on, you have to do something. Heal you need to- where's my wand?!_ "Why? Why? Why?" I ask when I realize my wand is somewhere across the lawn, wherever my purse is.

My vision starts flickering and I'm loosing feeling in my body. "Come on Pansy," I tell myself, trying to stay awake. It doesn't work, I feel like I'm slowly shutting off. What if I get an infection? What if I'm out here all day? What if birds start eating me? What if-

"Oh no! What's Ms. Parkinson done to herself?"

"Swinkie!" My head spins to the small elf beside me. "Thank god you found me," I breath in relief. She scowls.

"Ms. Parkinson gone and jump out her window? Ms. Parkinson trying to hurt herself?"

"What? No! Of course not, I wouldn't-"

"Oh no! Swinkie doesn't know! Swinkie doesn't understand! Why would young Ms. Parkinson do this!"

"Swinkie, no. My room isn't even on this side of this castle!" But she's too far gone.

"Oh how could she do this?" she wails, falling to her knees. "Did Swinkie do something wrong? Was she not good enough for her young mistress? No, no, no!"

"Swinkie why are you- just stop! You don't understand- look! There's not even a window up there! Look! I would have bad to jump sideways at least twenty feet and that's impossible-"

"Swinkie wasn't good enough! Swinkie bad! Bad Swinkie!" She runs to the nearest tree and starts banging her head against it.

"What are you doing? Stop! Swinkie!" I yell, horrified. She keeps crying and hitting herself. I try to lift my arm and end up yelling in pain. My ribs are so broken I don't know how I will ever fix- Swinkie! Elf magic! She can heal me!

"Why? Why? Why?"

"Swinkie- enough! That's an order!" I command. She stops automatically, drops the stick, and faces me.

"I's must do what Swinkie's told. I failed enough and gots to do better."

"You've been doing great, amazing, actually. So stop being pathetic and enough with the abuse."

"But Mistress Parkinson wants me to punish myself twice every-"

"Enough of my mother! She's an idiot, don't listen-" Swinkie's eyes widen, then she gasps and covers her mouth.

"And Ms. Parkinson never thought about her mother! The young Ms. jumped off and didn't even think what her mama would do! How selfish. Sad, sad, sad-"

"What this would do to her? _She's_ the one that did this to _me_!" Swinkie starts bawling again.

"No love! No love! What would have the Mistress done! Such grief! No Swinkie can't handle it- it's all too terrible!"

"Okay, Swinkie, that's enough! Stop this instance." She keeps crying. I draw in a breath despite the pain in my side. "Elf, I am your master and I order you to stop crying, screaming, and moping! You will do as I say or pay the consequences." The result's immediate and Swinkie straightens up, staring at me with loyalty and respect. No more tears. Good, I can work with this. "My ribs and left arm are broken, I need you to fix them quickly."

"Yes madam, but you will feel lots of pain. Swinkie's sorry madam," I try to back away as she leans over me.

"Wait-what? What do you mean-" and I basically black out.

Twenty minutes later I'm walking out of the kitchen, holding an ice pack to my sore ribs and cursing like a sailor.

I should have ordered Swinkie to take her time healing me. I'm sure there are more pleasant ways of resetting bones than to snap them back into place. It took two seconds to fix but took twenty years out of me. I've never felt so much pain in my life. And that was only one rib.

My mother will pay.

My mother my mother my mother.

Since when did Lucinda and I become so hostile? Since when did she consider launching me seventy feet through the air a good punishment?

"Bitch. Possessed lunatic. Mental patient. Sadist." I make my way up the stairs and to my room. "Heartless, cold, self-absorbed, unwanted, unloved, stupid, fat cow." I slam my door and immediately go to my dresser, peeling off my clothes and grabbing pajamas. "Demented, bitchy, worthless, waste-of-space, untalented, pointless, disgusting, hideous, shitty, neurotic, megalomanic, power crazy, pathetic-"

"I hope that's not directed at me." I scream and spin around, bumping into a shelf. "Whoa there, graceful."

"Malfoy? What the hell-"

"I figured your mother wouldn't allow you to go to Hogsmeade, so I just went to your room."

"Oh, it wasn't my room she sent me to," I grumble, walking to my bed with my ice pack.

"So she let you go to Hogsmeade?"

"No." Malfoy stares at me in confusion for a second. I don't want to talk about Lucinda, I want to do something that doesn't involve talking at all, actually.

"Alright, I'll bite. What did she do to make you mad? Or, just more mad than usual?"

"We argued."

"That's it?"

"Pretty much."

"And your side?"

"Sore," I say vaguely. I don't want to share all my family secrets with Malfoy. They're personal and so not right for the moment. Well, we're not exactly having a moment, but I want to be in one.

"But not _too_ sore, right?" Malfoy asks with a smirk. And the moment begins.

"I don't know, it might need to heal," I respond coyly. He pushes away from my desk and walks over to me.

"Do you need a doctor?"

"Just for a quick check-up." Malfoy shakes his head as he skims his hands up my bare legs. I only have silk shorts and and camisole on.

"You see, I only do full examinations."

"I hear you're an expert on them."

"The very best. And I only accept a select group of patients."

"Do you? I would have dressed better then... or not at all," I say with a smirk.

"Yes, that would have pushed you up the list quite far. Not to worry, I can do a quick elimination test." Malfoy's hands are on my arse again, cupping it. This time, they're very welcomed there. "This passes."

"I'm so glad." Malfoy's hands move down my thighs to the curve of my knee.

"Very nice, they pass as well."

"That's a relie-" He tugs on my legs and I land on my back. Again. Malfoy's hands go underneath my shirt, feeling my waist. My camisole rides up, showing a bit of skin. He leans down and kisses my stomach. "This seems good to go, very well fed and-" I slap his back and he laughs, crawling up my body to plant a kiss on my lips. I angle my head to deepen it, but Malfoy pulls away. He wags a finger at me. "Not yet, we still have one more thing to check on." His fingers go to my neck, feeling my pulse. I try to take deep breaths, but it's too late. "Oh, someone's heart is beating considerably fast. Are you alright?"

"Yeah, not much to report. A little bored, actually."

"Well we have to cure that, don't we?" he says, bringing his hands next to either side of my head.

"I think the procedure will take a long, 'long time to perform." Malfoy smirks, inches from my face.

"Good thing I'm up for the challenge." His lips devour mine. My arms snake up around Malfoy's neck and pull him closer as his tongue dips into my mouth. We fight for dominance between our tongues until his hand slips under my shirt. He feels so good on my skin that he can lead the snogging all day long.

Malfoy's mouth is at my ear and I shiver from the warm air.

"I got a nice view when you changed out of your clothes."

"Want a reenactment?" I breath.

"Doctor's orders." His hands reach the hem of my shirt and quickly takes it off so our mouths can meet again. I take my hands through his perfectly styled hair, loving the fact that it's _me_ who gets to mess it up. His hands pull at my waist and I arch my back, getting even closer to him. I pull my head away for a second, gasping.

"Why- is- your shirt- still on?" He smirks.

"I suppose it wasn't very necessary to take off."

"Oh, it's _very_ necessary." My hands rake up his back as Malfoy pulls the shirt over and off. He lays back down on me and cups my breasts. I pull his mouth to mine and attack his tongue. My hands find their way to his back again and spread across all the hard planes. Malfoy starts kissing down my neck, nipping me every so often. It's amazing, until I realize what he's doing. "Yeah no. Nice try, but that's not going to happen," I say adamantly, pushing Malfoy's head away. He looks up at me innocently.

"What did I do?"

"You know exactly what you're doing. It took me forever to find a spell for those hickeys!"

"Well now you have it so no issue," he says, lips coming back to my neck. I ignore the shot of pleasure and push him away again.

"Except it hurt like a bitch when I did the spell."

"You know I'm worth it." I'm about to object when his lips lock onto my skin again. Malfoy's arms are around me, pulling me closer to his heated body. His tongue swipes across my neck and he nips it, sucking in my skin, then seals it with a kiss. He repeats the process over and over until my protests turn to moans and my hands are combing through his hair.

Malfoy leans back with a satisfied smirk.

"See, told you I was worth it."

"Worth what- oh shit. How bad is it?" I tilt my head to the side. Malfoy observes it.

"It's not bad, it's really attractive, actually." I roll my eyes and push him off me, walking to my mirror. Malfoy follows me.

"You call this not bad? Oh my god. There's a red leech on me." I swear it's the size of a potato.

"Relax, it'll come right off."

"It's hideous."

"So it suits you. Keep it." I smack his stomach and reach for my wand. Holding it to my neck, I look at Malfoy in the mirror.

"Get out."

"Why?"

"It's embarrassing."

"The hickey is embarrassing? I'm the one who gave it to you."

"No, the spell is."

"Let's see it then." I roll my eyes.

"Suit yourself." I take a deep breath to focus. "We were getting busy in the dark

My lover left a little mark

I want to keep our secret at bay

Make my little love mark go away."

Malfoy starts laughing hysterically. I glare at him through the mirror. He's too busy wiping away tears to notice.

"Oh shove off." I push away from the counter.

"Don't- be- upset." Malfoy stands up and tries to hide his smirk. "It was cute."

"I'm so glad you're getting a laugh out of this," I snap.

"You might as well just leave the 'little love mark' next time, it's got to be less embarrassing than that spell." Malfoy sits on my desk, looking so confident and cocky.

"Slow down there Speedy, don't be so sure of a 'next time'," I brush past him and head for the door.

"And the Drama Queen strikes again."

"Yeah, definitely don't count on a next time." I grab the handle.

"Oh you may not want to go out there for a while," Malfoy calls. I turn.

"And why can't I leave _my_ room to walk around _my_ house?"

"Do whatever you want, I'm just warning you not to."

"Care to explain?" I ask impatiently. Damn right I can do whatever I want.

"Because our fathers are busy and won't want a kid bothering them."

"I am _not_ a- your father's here?"

"No, he's not, by 'our fathers' I meant your dad and my mum," Malfoy says, moving to my bed. He lies down and closes his eyes. _Well make yourself at home. _

"What are they doing?"

"Discussing business."

"Ministry business?"

"Similar."

"They're not apart of the same department though."

"Yes but they can still cooperate."

"For what?" This is getting confusing.

"Don't play dim," Malfoy says in exasperation, opening his eyes.

"I'm not playing anything! Why don't you just stop being-" Malfoy sits up abruptly.

"Wait, you really don't know?"

"What am I supposed to know?"

"There's no way you can't know. All of us know."

"All of _who_ know _what_?"

"Your dad hasn't told you?"

"Told. Me. WHAT?"

"You really are stupid," he says while getting up.

"And you're really-"

"Just shut up and follow me," Malfoy says, grabbing my hand. I almost yell at him until he opens the door slowly and I feel a sudden need to be very quiet. Malfoy pulls me down the hall to the top of the stairs. We don't go down. He turns and puts a finger to his mouth, hushing me, then points at the railing. Deep voices carry from the living room below. I inch closer to hear.

"The time to act is now."

"We can't be hasty, Lucius," came my father's voice. I've never heard him so serious before.

"It's not hasty. We've been waiting for years."

"Then waiting just a little bit more won't hurt."

"We can't wait! Inaction is still an action, and it will be judged just as harshly as the other side will be." What side? Malfoy looks at my face, as if waiting for something. Am I supposed to know what's going on?

"I am well aware of how every decision is judged, Lucius. At the same time, we have to make sure that every move is performed with perfect timing and discreetness. We don't want any unnecessary issues with the Ministry." The Ministry? I look at Malfoy questioningly. He doesn't clarify, just continues staring at me.

"Of course we'll be cautious, and the Ministry suspects nothing. They're all just blubbering idiots living in denial."

"They suspect nothing? You should warn your little friend Alec Carrow to be quieter about sniffing around the Ministry before I'm not able to cover his arse anymore."

"So you _are_ watching out for us?"

"Of course I am. I'm not going down for a mistake that one of _you_ blubbering idiots make." I have _never_ heard my father talk like this. He sounds so... dark. And powerful. Usually that's my mother, but he's even more dangerous.

"Everyone's getting rowdy, I have to handle them myself. Maybe if you bothered to be around more-"

"Stop there, you sound like my wife."

"She'll be affected by your decisions."

"Don't lecture me."

"We're getting together for a meeting down at the Leaky Cauldron later this week."

"Schedule it with my assistant."

"Do you think this is a game, Clive?" Lucius's voice lowers.

"Well if it is I'm winning."

"You need to get serious and get your priorities straight." There's a loud screech as I'm guessing a chair gets pushed back.

"Don't talk to me about priorities! I'm more invested in this than any of you. This has been my life."

"Mine too. Be at the meeting and we'll discuss how to follow out the plan."

"What plan- oh you can't honestly still be thinking about that."

"It's above just a thought, I received permission." A long silence follows. I want to look so badly.

"When was this confirmed?"

"Just before I came to you."

"There's no way this can happen."

"It doesn't matter what you think."

"This is ridiculous and has _way_ too many flaws to even _consider_-" Another chair gets thrown back.

"The _Dark Lord_ has risen, Clive! It doesn't matter if this is the most mental plan you've ever heard!" I clasp my hand over my mouth to keep from gasping. I look at Malfoy's face. There's no surprise there. He's known. "We'll all be killed if we question so don't even consider it! It's time to show our loyalty. If the Dark Lord needs spies at Hogwarts, he'll get them." My father is- _what_? He's going to _spy_?!

"Death Eaters can't exactly waltz in and-"

I can hear his family's trademark smirk as Lucius says, "Our children aren't Death Eaters yet, are they?"

* * *

**How was it? No idea where I'm taking this story, but I hope this chapter worked for you guys. I'm sick and have a massive headache but I just love you all so much and I needed to post so you better say nice things! ;) Until next time. **


	8. Slytherinslutsaywhat?

**Here's the next chapter! |:^D My week's been crazy. First I got food poisoning, then it was my birthday, then I had to cram in last minute summer assignments, and now school's starting in two days! (Well I guess one now, since it's currently 3 a.m.)**

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"How's the toast and berries?" Dad asks as he strolls into the kitchen.

"Decent," I reply, taking a large bite of my bread and chewing very slowly, hoping that short talk will end there.

"The elves make one hell of a breakfast from what I remember. I just wish I had more time in the mornings to have a proper sit-down meal." He grabs a goblet from the cabinet.

"Why are you in such a hurry lately to get to work?" I ask nonchalantly.

"A lot of business to take care of, it gets pretty crazy."

"Oh I bet."

"Accio milk." I watch the refrigerator door pop open as the milk container hovers out.

"What exactly is your job?"

"I do a lot of clean-up work. I'm one of the heads of the Department of Magical Accidents and Catastrophes, so anytime someone slips up in the outside world, I cover for them." _You should warn your little friend Alec Carrow to be quieter about sniffing around the Ministry before I'm not able to cover his arse anymore._

"So you're good at cover stories?"

"Yep, you have to be. A certain amount of intelligence is needed, but mainly creativity."

"And you have to be able to lie well," I say, turning in my seat.

"I suppose. You bend what Muggles think they saw and turn it into something believable and explainable."

"So if anyone attacked Muggles you would say that it was a normal murder?" Dad looks at me a bit confused.

"I wouldn't go that far, no one's going around trying to harm Muggles." _Yet. _

"But you would be the person to come up with an excuse?"

"Hypothetically speaking, yes I would be." He lifts the glass of milk up to his lips.

"Wow, Dad. You'd make a brilliant spy!" The pause is just a second, the one beat between him lifting the goblet and taking a sip. I catch the freeze and turn in my seat, smiling into my toast.

o.O

"I can't believe you didn't know."

"Just drop it already!"

"It's just... Wow you're really behind."

"Malfoy!"

"Well it's not my fault you're out of the loop."

"One more comment and I'm leaving."

"Suit yourself," Malfoy says as he lays his head on my lap. I lean back against the white picket fence and appreciate how much effort is put into the garden at the Malfoy Manor. The green grass is soft under my legs and the sun kisses my face. It would be a nice day if I didn't have things to worry about.

"What do you think we'll do?"

"I have plenty ideas," Malfoy says suggestively as his hand reaches up and squeezes my bum. I bat his hand away.

"I mean with what our fathers were talking about," I admonish.

"Oh, that." He shrugs and closes his eyes. "Whatever we're asked."

"What do you think we'll be asked to do?"

"If I knew all the answers, I'd be at the Dark Lord's side, helping take over the world."

"You're not helping." He lets out a sigh.

"Fine, we could be asked to spy on teachers. Like Snape, see if he's still on our side."

"Do you think he is?"

"If I knew I wouldn't have to spy," he says tiredly.

"But what do you think? Is he still a Death Eater?"

"How am I to know?"

"For someone so quick to give his opinions on everything, you're being awfully quiet."

"Because what does it matter what we think? We do as we're told, Parkinson. We aren't the leaders, it's not our job to think. I'm just glad the Dark Lord's finally realizing how useful I can be."

"So you're ready for this?" Malfoy's eyes snap open.

"Of course I am! I've been preparing all my life for this! It's about time I get involved." I lean my head back and look up at the sky.

"I wonder why my father hasn't told me yet." Malfoy shrugs.

"He'll tell you soon. Other kids probably haven't been given all the details either, my dad's just very connected and let's me know right away."

"Well aren't you special."

"I am, try not to get jealous." I roll my eyes. There was a little pause.

"Do you reckon you'll be a good spy?" he asks.

"Of course. I'm discreet, stealthy, charming, and I can lie well." Malfoy snorts at me loudly and I frown at him.

"You cannot."

"Yes, I can."

"Fine, let's prove it." Malfoy sits up and stares into my eyes.

"How many times a day do you think about me?"

"I- what? You're getting a little full of yourself."

"Ten? Twenty? Just give an approximation."

"How about never?"

"Lie."

"Wha-"

"How many times have you thought about me shirtless?"

"I have never dreamt about you shirtless."

"How many times do you replay our kisses?"

"This is ridiculous Malfoy." His hands shoot out and grab my wrists. He pulls me closer, until our faces are inches apart.

"Pansy," he says in a low voice.

"_Draco_."

"How many times have you dreamt about me?" Suddenly those lips look so big and inviting.

"I haven't."

"Are you sure?" Am I? I look into his eyes and sort of get lost. They're grey and dark and make me melt. I've definitely dreamt about them.

"Yes."

"How many times do you wish you could touch me?" A million? I want to kiss him right now, so a million and one?

"Not often to rarely."

"Really?" His voice is so sexy as a whisper. I find myself moving a little closer.

"Yep."

"How many times have you looked at my lips?" I reflexively look down at them again before snapping my gaze back up.

"Zero."

"Is that so?" Malfoy smirks. God that mouth.

"Uh-huh." He moves closer, until we're practically breathing the same air. Now his lips are all I can look at.

"Do you want to kiss me right now?"

"Not one bit."

"Are you-" And my arms are around his neck and my lips are crushing his. He leans back on the ground and I'm on top of him, my legs on either side of his waist. Malfoy pushes back with a smirk. "You're a terrible liar."

"Shut up." My hands are in his hair and his are under my shirt. We roll around in bright colors and sun and green grass- and I _really_ start to appreciate the Malfoy garden.

o.O

I think I'm sick.

Like, fatally.

Only six days, twenty-two hours, and fifteen minutes until school starts. There is a certain number of seconds, but who's counting?

This isn't healthy.

I'm squirming with impatience. I want school to start _now_.

Like I said- I think I'm sick.

The thing is, I'm being absolutely suffocated here. Mother is either a blood hound snarling over my head, or completely lost in her own life. Either way, I'm not allowed to leave the house or have fun unless I'm seeing Malfoy.

Well, Mr. Draco Malfoy hasn't exactly been Mr. Dependable. Where is he when I need to get out of the house? Busy. Where is he when I need to get rid of all my stress? Busy. Where is he when we're supposed to meet? Busy. And where am I when he comes calling for my attention? Sleeping.

Throughout the past two weeks, I've seen Malfoy maybe five times. Three of which I was in bed either because Mother sent me there for poor conduct during supper or because it was in the middle of the night. I wish I could say that Malfoy is a terrible snogger and the next time he throws a rock at my window I won't answer, but I will. I'll probably end up hauling him _into_ my room.

"Ma'am?" I nearly jump two feet into the air. I turn around quickly and glare at the doorway, where a house elf stands.

"'What?"

"'Scuse me, but Mrs. Parkinson told me to deliver these to you." The little man held a package and a letter in his hand. He proffers them and bows his head. I take them and walk back to my desk. Package first.

"Hogwarts?" I tear it open and the evil thing that comes out quickly dulls my excitement to return. Along with my book list, all my homework assignments fall out. "Why am I getting this so late?" I accuse the elf. He jumps slightly and bows his head again.

"I don't know, madam, Mince only received this a moment ago." I exhale and calm myself. No use blowing up at the poor elf.

"Alright. You are excused." As he turns to leave, a wicked idea strikes me. "Mince?"

"Oh, yes Ms. Parkinson?"

"Can you use a quill?" He seems puzzled for just a moment.

"I s'pose I'm not terrible."

"Excellent! Do my homework for me." I hand back the pages of Potions, Arithmetic, Charms, and who knows what other assignments.

"But- but- I never attended school before, Miis. I don't know all these subjects and-"

"Don't worry, you have an entire week. Take it to the kitchen with the rest of the elves. Use whatever books you need, just finish them. I don't care how stupid the answers are." Before Mince could protest again, I raise my eyebrows, daring him to say something. He quickly closes his mouth and runs out the room. That's a good elf. I'll make sure to sneak him and the others a few shiny coins later. Shaking my head, I realize I'd only be encouraging their hoarding.

"Well, now that that's taken care of." I turn to my letter.

**Daphne Greengrass**

Smiling, I tear open the lovely envelope and take out my best friend's letter. Neat, loopy letters fill the page.

**Dearest Pansy,**

**It's been just a few weeks since we saw each other last, but it feels like ages! Absolutely too long. How are you? **

**I returned only yesterday from Paris and slept in until three!**

Daphne and her family are naturally insanely wealthy- being Pureblood and all. Daphne's parents are also one of the few who actually have a decent marriage and therefore can handle being around one other without becoming murderers. Last summer they took a family trip to their castle in Ireland and the year before that, to their penthouse in America. This summer they invited me to go to France for three weeks. Daphne and I were beyond excited- I was practically hyperventilating- and planned everything that we would do from sightseeing to food to boys. So I felt reasonably disappointed and momentarily psychotic when my mother said that Parkinsons don't accept offers from others- it shows weakness- and I didn't deserve to go on a trip since I was an irresponsible and ungrateful brat. I broke a few valuable art pieces afterwards. Safe to say, I didn't get on that ride to Paris.

**It's an issue when you can't decide which is better: French food or French boys? **

I laugh. How terrible that world must be.

**Anyway, we **must _**catch up. Tomorrow we're going to Diagon Alley for school supplies; first term begins next week! Meet at the front of the Three Broomsticks at three. I'm bringing Mildred along and maybe some others. You know how it gets; you're gone for three weeks and everyone thinks you're dead! I've got ten letters to reply to, but don't worry, you were at the top of my list!**_

_**Bye for now darling, I shall see you tomorrow**__. _

_**With love,**_

_**Daphne**_

_**P.S- I've missed you terribly. **_

_**P.P.S- But I miss those French boys as well. **_

_**P.P.P.S- It's an issue! **_

_o.O_

This time I didn't bother with the front door. I leave a note on my dresser telling Mother that I went to Diagon Alley to grab some supplies. If she bothers to check my room, she'll see it. And if she bothers to check her purse, she'll see quite a few galleons missing.

I swing one leg over the ledge of my terrace and grab onto the vine-covered lattice. Ensuring I have a tight hold, I bring my other leg over and begin scaling down the criss-crossed handholds. I sprint (or lightly jog. Please, I'd rather get caught than sweat.) across the lawn and behind a tree, making sure no one saw me through a window. No one is there, and I quickly Disapparate.

Malfoy's lying on his bed, reading some book with an intent expression. My eyes trail to the unbutton top of his shirt and the stretch of skin underneath- no. For once, I'm here for something else.

"Malfoy I need-" he jumps up and yells, falling off the bed with a _thud_.

"Who the bloody hell- Parkinson!" Malfoy's face is red as he stands up and crosses the room.

"Good afternoon," I say, smiling innocently.

"What are you doing in my room? You think you can just pop up uninvited and-"

"Save the proper etiquette speech, Mother's been trying for the past sixteen years."

"What are you doing here? I said that I'd let you know the next time we could-"

"Okay one: You would _let_ me know? I'm not your whore! And two: Not everything's about you! I didn't come here so I could snog you." Malfoy snorts.

"Right, you just want to play a game of chess, I take it?" I roll my eyes.

"Actually, I need your Floo." His eyebrows knit in confusion.

"My Floo? As in-"

"Yes, the big square thing in a wall that you stand in with green powder in your hand. Most would call that a Floo Network."

"Don't start with me. Why can't you just Apparate? Did Daddy lose his connections at the Ministry?"

"My father's connections are perfectly in tact, thankyouverymuch," I say, tilting my head up. "I could even be time traveling and Father's bribes would still hold. The issue is my mother. As a result of my 'disobedient behavior'-" I made sure to air quote- "she's had sensors built into the house. I can't Apparate or use the Floo without her knowing and reprimanding me."

"So you need my Floo?" Malfoy puts his arms over his chest and smirks.

"You're a bit slow today, aren't you?"

"You need my help?"

"I need your Floo."

"So you need me."

"Let's not get carried away."

"Say it."

"Say what?"

"Say you need me." I roll my eyes.

"I haven't got all day."

"Neither do I."

"So I'll just go to your living room and-" he steps in front of me, blocking the door.

"Say it, Parkinson."

"I need your Floo so I need you-in a way."

"Not good enough."

"Malfoy!"

"I have all day."

"I thought you said you didn't."

"Changed my mind."

"Just give me the Floo."

"Why don't you just admit that-"

"Fineineedyou!" I hiss out.

"I know you do. Let's go." He takes my arm and leads me into the hallway.

The Malfoys just have to have the best of everything. I swear I've never seen a bigger fireplace before. This black marble cutout could hold ten people.

"Where are you even going?" Malfoy asks lazily, leaning against the fireplace with a jar of powder in his hands.

"To Diagon Alley with some girls."

"The fat one too?"

"Bullstrode? Unfortunately."

"Well, you could stay here. I'm sure there are better things we could do..." I roll my eyes.

"As terrific as that sounds, I'll have to pass."

"Because you'll have a better time with the Bull." Malfoy pushes off the stone and takes a step forward.

"Daphne as well." His hands come to my hips. Those eyes raise my body temperature ten degrees. "I haven't seen her in weeks so... we need to catch up." Malfoy's head lowers to my shoulder and he kisses my neck.

"_We_ need to catch up," he says with another kiss.

"I saw you last night," I try to say teasingly, but my voice sounds too rough.

"So?" I check my watch. 2:58. I need to leave. Now.

"Oh I'm sorry, do you need me?" I mock.

"No." I turn and press my lips against his fiercely. My hands lie against his chest as he steps closer. I stay a moment, then smirk and push away. Grabbing a handful of Floo powder I say, "Right, you tell yourself you don't need me. Diagon Alley!" I wish I could have taken a picture of his glare.

o.O

"Watch it young lady!" is my first greeting back into society.

"Not my fault you can't see through those wrinkles!" I retort to the old woman who bumped into me.

It takes me a second to remember where the Three Broomsticks is, but as I look around my eyes find Daphne standing across the street. I check my watch. Three o'clock exactly!

As I take my first step, someone grabs my wrist and pulls back. I fall into a chest and scream into it. Then I punch it.

"Malfoy! You gave me a heart attack." I grumble at that smirk.

"Good." He pulls me behind a building and away from the crowded street.

"I have to go I need to-" I'm silenced by his mouth. Malfoy leans me against the brick wall and kisses me aggressively. His body presses against mine and his fingers dig into my hips. He pulls me tighter and tighter against him and I'm drowning in all things Malfoy. I couldn't help but moan against his mouth. With a laugh, he pulls away. I scowl at him.

"Malfoy." My hands don't loosen their grip around his neck and I pull him back down.

"I think we both can agree," says Malfoy with a smirk, "That _you_ need _me_." He pulls my hands away and backs up. I stare open-mouthed at him.

"You have got to be joking."

"Do I ever joke?" he asks seriously.

"At the expense of others? All the time."

"Fair point."

"Anyway, thanks for making me-" I glance at my watch- "Ten minutes late. You can take that smirk and 'fair point' back to Malfoy Manor. I'm leaving."

"Believe it or not, I didn't waste energy coming here for you, I came for something exciting." I pointedly ignore that insult.

"Oh yes I'm sure you have loads of things to do."

"Not things, Parks." Malfoy winks and with that, walks in the opposite direction. I roll my eyes at his back and walk towards the Three Broomsticks.

o.O

"Pansy! There you are!" Daphne yells. She stops glaring at the passer-byers and hurries towards me. She's in-between extremely annoyed and excited. I put on a bright smile.

"Daphne!"

"Where have you-"

"Don't you look incredible? Wow. Paris did wonders for you, you're absolutely glowing!"

"And you're absolutely late!" She puts her hands on her hips and glares at me.

"I apologize, Mother held me up at home. I barely escaped with my life, but I had to see my best friend!" I saddle up next to Daphne and bump hips with her. Finally, her mood breaks and she smiles radiantly.

"Pansy it's really been too long!" She throws her arms around my shoulders and I pat her back. We disconnect almost instantly but stay side by side. Public affection- or any show of affection- is a rarity with Purebloods. "Do I really glow?"

"Well, sort of. But you do look good." Daphne rolls her eyes.

"I suppose that's the best compliment I'll get out of you." I smirk. Her arm loops through mine and we walk into the Three Broomsticks.

"Where's the third wheel?" I ask as we pick a table near the window.

"Pansy, you really ought to be nicer to her."

"I'm plenty nice to Bullfrog." I say absently, taking a menu. Daphne raises her eyebrows. "Oh. Well no, then, I'm actually very mean to her," I correct with a shrug.

"At least you acknowledge it."

"I'll acknowledge that she creeps me out and it pains me to see her face."

"She's not _that_ creepy-"

"She's sent me more than twenty letters this summer. Every single one says 'Hope you're summer's turning out as wonderful as you, Pansy. I miss you- hugs and kisses'."

"How cute, you read every one."

"Absolutely not. Bulldog must have realized I wasn't reading her letters, so whenever they touched the rubbish bin, they started _singing_ the words. Singing! In the most obnoxious, horrendous, tone-deaf voice I've ever heard." Daphne laughs hysterically. "It's not the least bit funny! I had to burn every one."

"Pansy, just admit it. You love that she's obsessed with you." I recoil from the table so fast I almost fall in my chair.

"Don't _EVER_ say that again! Ew by Salazar's wit! I can't stand that girl!"

"I didn't mean that you like her, I meant that you like the attention."

"You have one strange mind, Greengrass."

"Don't pretend for one second you don't like that even a girl is obsessed with you." I smirk.

"I can't help it if everyone loves me." Daphne rolls her eyes again.

"That's what I thought."

And speak of the devil. Millicent Bulstrode walks- stomps- through the doors. When she sees us, she smiles- grimaces- widely and waves. The tiny shirt- that would look cute on someone who didn't have the body of a walrus- rides up mid stomach. Her mini skirt flounces up with each step to reveal thighs literally the size of a pregnant cow. In all, I'm watching a whale in a school girl's uniform and heels tramp across the room.

I turn in my seat and press a hand to my mouth.

"Are you okay?" Daphne asks. I hold up a finger.

"Give me a second- I have to stop gagging."

"Pansy! Be nice, she really looks up to you and your opinion matters a lot to her."

"My sanity matters more."

"Can't you-" Seventy pound weights land on my shoulders and crush me against something with the consistency of jello. It rolls around as I'm being suffocated against it.

"Pansy! I missed you so much how are you tell me everything!" came the deep, gravelly voice.

"Bulltoad, get your meatloaf hands away from me before I rip off your fingers and serve them as sausage platters at Mother's next ball." Suddenly I can breath. I gasp and rub my neck. The whale laughs and sits in the chair next to me.

"Uh, so Em, how have you been?" Millicent doesn't even glance at Daphne.

"Decent- Pansy you didn't reply to any of my letters!"

"Daphne do you have disinfectant wipes?" I ask.

"Oh don't you worry, I showered before I got here. And I used the new perfume Mum got me. Here, smell." Before I can move, she's on top of me. The stench of rotten fish fills my nose.

"Bulstrode. Get. _Away_."

"Your mum got that for you? How nice," Daphne inserts quickly.

"She's decent every once and a while."

"Hate to break the news, but mummy dearest went cheap on you- she found that in the dumpster."

"Pansy!" Daphne yells.

"Oh I've missed you and your humor so much. I'm glad we're hanging out." Bulstrode "smiles".

"We're not hanging out, I'm eating with Greengrass and you happen to be sitting offensively close."

"Pansy," Daphne warns.

"Can we order some food now? I think we should order some food. Okay? Okay." I turn around and look for a waiter.

"We have to wait for a minute."

"Why?" I ask, not really listening.

"Because-"

"What the hell?" I blurt as a perky, tall blond walks into the room.

"What?" Daphne asks. Bulstrode looks around. I glance back. The blond with the plastic face and fake boobs sees our table and waves happily, flashing a pearly white smile. I spin around in my seat.

"Why is that thing waving at us? Quick, turn around like we don't know who she is." Daphne waves at her, smiling. "What are you doing?!"

"Don't be mean, I invited her." My head shoots up.

"You- you _what_?"

"It's been a while since we've all hung out together."

"I know, why do you want to break the good record?"

"Just be nice, she's here," Daphne whispers through her smile.

"I hate you I hate you I hate-"

"I've been looking everywhere for you girls!" came the annoying, high-pitched voice from the infinitely more annoying, too-bright face.

"Davis! Darling, how are you?" I greet warmly, turning around with a bright smile plastered to my face.

"Oh so much done, so much to tell! I've been traveling all over Europe, working on a tan. But we can save me for later, how are you girls?"

Daphne talks brightly to her for what seems like hours. Bultoad just stares at her, practically drooling. And I try maintaining a smile, but after that turned into glaring, I settle for boredom.

Tracy Davis is annoying.

Tracy Davis is the dimmest person to ever walk the planet.

Tracy Davis is fake.

Tracy Davis is a doll.

Tracy Davis is a bitch.

Tracy Davis is the Slytherin Slut.

I might get around, but that girl's the Pureblood broomstick.

Us four were friends since before first year, and while our group seemed awkward, we really worked. Daphne was the mother and glue of our group, Bultoad was the tag-along who was always there till the point where it felt weird if she wasn't, I was the ringleader who kept things interesting, and Davis was the obnoxious, useless, forever talking doll without an off switch. Her and I butted heads a lot, but she knew her place and stayed in it.

I'd like to say she was all around fake, but she's not. Her boobs are real, her perfect skin is real, her long legs are real, her stupid blond locks are real, and that annoying laugh is _definitely_ real. In all, it didn't take a genius to figure out why so many guys loved her. It all went to her head, and she liked to believe she was the face of our group.

Last year, during dinner in the Great Hall, Davis was talking non-stop about how she couldn't eat so much and her diet was working so well and she couldn't afford to gain weight. Everyone kept telling her how amazing she looked and how she didn't have to ever worry about weight. Davis would laugh and look so humble, saying, "Oh stop, you know I'm fat". When she was still going on mid-dinner and people were still complementing the hell out of her, I might have said something along the lines of, "Oh just shut up already, Davis. Who the do you think you're kidding? With the amount of clothes you _don't_ wear, it seems like you just _love_ showing off your body to anyone walking around. So stop fishing around for complements- it's pathetic and sad."

Then she said, "Why don't you shut your fat face, Parkinson? We all know you're just jealous. It's sad when a girl's best features are her thunder thighs and pug nose." I might have done something like pick up the mashed potatoes and throw it at her face. Then poured pumpkin juice over her head.

So yeah, our falling out was no subtle event.

I realize Davis was talking to me so I snap back to the conversation.

"What?" came my question. Daphne shakes her head.

"I was asking, how was your summer?"

"Oh. A bit uneventful, to be honest. Mother's held a tight leash on me, this is my first time off the estate." Davis gives me a once over.

"Yes, those robes look a little outdated, but no worries since we're here to shop!" Outdated? The bitch.

"So, Tracey, I trust your summer's been good?" Daphne cuts in.

"Amazing! Absolutely perfect I can't even-"

"Oh no wonder you couldn't find us!" I interject. "The Slut Robes shop is all the way on the other side of Diagon Alley." Daphne gawks at me and Bulstrode gives me a thumbs up. Davis only smiles and tilts her head.

"And of course you would know _exactly_ where it is." Before I could speak, she continues. "I went to Italy and ohmygod! The sites are worth doing. Absolutely marvelous and worth the work-out. Hot, steamy, and delicious."

"Did you have a tour guide?" asks Bultoad. Daphne and I roll our eyes simultaneously. Did she really think Davis was actually talking about siteseeing?

"Tour guide? I took a quick tour with the guide if that's what you mean."

A flash of blond-white crosses my peripheral vision. I look out the window and Malfoy's walking down the street with a bunch of guys. They're clapping him on the back and he's smirking. I watch him walk away, captivated by his confident gait and smooth movements.

"Any boys this summer, Pansy?" Davis asks. I look back at the girls, suddenly very bored.

"No, not particularly."

"Aw, what a shame. Well, you've got all of this year to catch up," says Davis with fake sympathy. I glare as Daphne talks.

"The boys in Paris were fun, I definitely got a year's worth of action."

"I got a few boys." Everyone ignores Bulstrode's comment.

"Anyone in particular for you, Davis?" She smiles shyly-fake- and seems very reluctant to tell. Probably some acne-covered guy who happened to be blind.

"Oh, well no one special..." Stop being coy.

"Just tell us," Daphne urges, engrossed by Davis's every word.

"There's only one decent guy I suppose worth mentioning."

"The suspense is killing me," I murmur, taking a sip of pumpkin juice.

"Draco Malfoy." I half-gasp and swallow.

"Wha-" A racking cough takes over and I bang my chest roughly.

"Pansy?"

"Are you okay?" Davis asks, patting my back. I shrug her away as my Cough of Death finally stops.

"Did you say Malfoy?" I ask. Davis's face melts into some gushy, dreamy look.

"Yes. Oh my god he's incredible! We first met last week. My parents had his parents over for dinner. Malfoy came along and when I took him for a tour of the house, it became a personal tour in my bed." She laughs and I want to throw up all over her. "Want to know why I was late here? Malfoy saw me and took me behind some building. We snogged for a good ten minutes- the best ten minutes of my life." Is she serious? No way. What's going on? The bitch is making this up. _I_ was with Malfoy no less than twenty minutes ago. He literally would have... wait.

_Not things to do- people. _

Then the wink.

Well son of a bitch.

"The Malfoy Manor is _gorgeous_. Oh Salazar I've never seen anything more beautiful. It's so dark, but has a nice touch. There are literally hundreds of house elves- there has to be to keep that palace clean. It must be difficult to control them all, but Narcissa is so amazing. I want to be her. She's so pretty and powerful- if I'm lucky enough to be the next Malfoy wife, I'll have to take a lot of tips from her. And Lucius! A gentleman if I've ever seen one. He's so-" On and on she goes as my anger slowly reaches a boiling point. She's only known him a week and is completely confident they're getting married. Slut.

Except the real slut isn't her, it's that bastard Malfoy.

I don't understand. I can't BELIEVE he would get frisky with that damn Davis behind my back. We weren't exclusive- God no. But I still have dignity. And no one, _no one_ gets to double up on me with Davis.

I stand up abruptly. The girls look up at me, Davis looks annoyed that I interrupted her.

"I have to go," I blurt.

"Where? You just got here," Daphne asks, frowning.

"Forgot I'm on a diet. Bulstrode, you can have my food, no harm getting you any bigger. See you girls on the train." I flash a smile at the table and stroll away as gracefully as I can. Davis is ranting again before I'm out the door.

I don't even know where I'm going or what I'm doing- well of course I do, I'm looking for Malfoy. Where the hell is he? I need to punch him in the face until that smirk is permanently damaged. He actually snogged that whore while he was- hot anger courses through me. All the times he's been sketching out was so that he could snog Davis. He chose _her_ over _me_? There's no way she's better. She probably paid him.

As if Malfoy needed more money. Black mail, then?

Why couldn't he find any other girl? _Anyone_ besides her. I'll never hear the end of it. If she finds out that Malfoy was also with me- no. She _can't_ find out. It would ruin my power over her. She would thinks she's so much better than me. But she's not. Of course she's not. She's pretty- or rather, not exactly ugly- and is skinny with major curves, but she chases too much. She's too pathetic.

I'm better.

"So was she decent?" I hear a voice say from the alley up ahead.

"Decent? Bloody brilliant more like." I freeze.

That rotten, disgusting voice belonged to one person. Someone who's face had my fist's name written on it. I round the corner.

Malfoy's leaning against the brick wall and Crabbe, Vincent, Zabini, and Nott are surrounding him. I stalk towards them and it takes a second before Malfoy sees me.

"Oh bloody hell."

"Parkinson! Lookin' good. Way to go Malfoy," Nott says, slapping Malfoy on the back. Malfoy smirks. I stand there, completely still and silent.

"What do you want? Round two?" Malfoy asks. I cross my arms. "Are you just going to stand there?" Yes. He sighs and looks at his buddies. "Guys, it's Parkinson's time of month. I'll meet you later." The crowd laughs and takes the hint to leave. I watch them walk back onto the street. "So are you going to say why-"

"Are you _serious_?" I yell, spinning around. Malfoy's caught off guard and steps back. All my control slips away. "You couldn't have imagined anyone else? Out of all the girls in Hogwarts, you picked the Slytherin Slut?" Malfoy looks weary.

"Do you mean-"

"Yes! Tracey damn _Davis_! How could you possibly have snogged the biggest bitch in Slytherin?!" Malfoy actually has the audacity to smirk. I swear I'm going to hit him. Or jinx him.

Or worse.

"It's not about personality, just on breasts, curves, and kisses." I gawk at him. Did he really...?

"I can't believe you actually hooked-up with Davis at the same time you did with me."

"Well, it wasn't the _same_ time," he says slyly.

"Do you know how disgusting you are? I kissed you after you swapped slut spit with her. That means _I_ practically kissed her!" I almost start gagging.

"Then we might as well fast forward to a threesome." For a second he looked serious- wait, maybe he is. Anger hits me again.

"If you even think that's a possibility, you're seriously mental."

"Can't blame a bloke for trying."

"But I _can_ blame you for getting it on with Davis behind my back!"

"Aww, is little Parks jealous?" Malfoy asks, stepping close to me.

"Don't be ridiculous."

"This is rather cute. I'm flattered, really." He pinches my cheek like I'm some little girl. I bat his hand away. "Oh come on, it's not like we're dating. I'm free to have sexual, hot, steamy relations with whomever-"

"You want. Yeah yeah blah blah blah. We weren't exclusive, but I have dignity, unlike _some_ people." Malfoy gives me an innocent look. "No one can know about this, it will ruin my reputation."

"I thought everyone considered you a slut."

"Well, yeah, but a tasteful one. People will think something's wrong with me if they find out you weren't satisfied with me."

"To be fair, it's not that you weren't satisfying, I just never stay with one person for too long. Tracey's amazing and that body's just perfect, but I'll get bored within a few days."

"Stay with her as long as you want, Malfoy. I really don't care." I turn away and walk.

"Don't take this personally," Malfoy calls.

"This was all personal," I grumble. He laughs. Something hit me, and I turn around. "When did you plan on ditching me?" He looks surprised for a moment.

"Why does it matter?"

"I just want to know how you planned on telling me. Or would you have not told me and just left me wondering?" Malfoy shrugs.

"Probably would have had one last go then ignored you."

"Ignore me?"

"Yeah, when you send me letters and come knocking on my door... or Apparate into my room," he adds.

"I'm not some pathetic, heartbroken little girl," I say in disgust. The insinuation was insulting. He smirks.

"Sure you aren't."

"You were a good way to pass the time, that's all."

"Everyone falls for me sooner or later," he says with a shrug, like it's complete fact. That self-aggrandizing bastard. "The thing is, ditching you was option number one, but I've been considering another." Malfoy steps closer to me. I scowl. What is he getting at now? "I like you, Parks." My pulse does a double-take. Suddenly, his words were important. "Hanging out with you is fun, and it gets tiring having Vincent and Crabbe stalk me all day."

"I swear if you drop the, 'We can still be friends' line, I'll hit you." He laughs and I feel it tingle under my skin. I shove the feeling away, annoyed by these reactions.

"I'm saying, let's be friends, with some extra perks. What do they say in America? Friends with benefits?" He can't actually believe I would snog that contaminated mouth after he kissed Davis. Malfoy waits expectantly.

"If you think for one second-" I cut myself off. He hurt my ego.

Time to repay the favor.

"I guess I have nothing to lose." Malfoy smirks.

"I knew you'd see it my way."

"I can't see anything else but you." I close the space and bring his head down to mine. Automatically, my fingers find his shirt, practically tearing it off. His hands go to my shirt but I'm already at his pants, yanking the belt off roughly. I feel his smirk in the kiss. Seconds later, Malfoy's pants are off. He's reaching for my skirt and I pull away from the kiss for a second.

"Wait," I breath. His lips move to my neck.

"Come on."

"Okay, I just wanted to tell you-" I lean away, pull my leg back, and shoot my knee into the man's sweet spot. He grunts and falls to his knees.

"Bloody HELL," Malfoy gasps on the ground.

"Thanks a ton for that friends with benefits sesh, let me know when you're ready for the next one!" I wink at him and in another burst of inspiration, pick up his clothes and run out of the alley.

"Parkinson wait. Parkinson! PANSY!" Malfoy yells, still laying on the cement. Serves the bastard right.

People must think I'm absolutely mental, but too bad. I'm grinning triumphantly. Payback's a real bitch. I keep smirking, and whenever the sudden memories of Malfoy's lips on mine or of us bantering surface, my legs pump faster and I refuse to let go of my anger, wondering instead, "How can I shave off Davis's hair without her noticing?"

* * *

**FINALLY! I've never been more happy for summer to be over. Now they can start Hogwarts in the next chapter. =D So excited!**

**Thanks for reading! I hope you enjoyed, and I hope some of you caught the **_The Fault in Our Stars_** references I unconsciously put in. ;) Review now por favor! Thanks! :D**


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